


sis in amore potens

by CasanovaCanSoar



Series: nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 17:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasanovaCanSoar/pseuds/CasanovaCanSoar
Summary: Runner is home for the summer after his junior year of college. He’s not excited to be back in his sleepy, tiny town. So far, in the first few weeks, his best friend has been ditching him for this new guy, his parents don’t care about him and haven’t spoken more than two words to him since he came back, one of his best friends is struggling at home, and he feels like his life is going to be a dead end. More alone than he’s ever been, he ends up meeting this weird guy who lives in the woods and trying to figure out why trees have been falling down.





	sis in amore potens

**Author's Note:**

> For the Pacific Big Bang 2017-2018! This has been a huge project for me and I'm really proud with the story's development. Oftentimes, the characters made their own decisions and I just wrote along with them! I hope you enjoy !
> 
> Warnings are in the End Notes!
> 
> While you read, you can listen to a playlist I made, which can be accessed [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/cat-sheedy/playlist/39CzkooEHwwBHkJKGIgi3e)

It was a wonderful day, easily deemed "pleasant" by any townsperson that walked outside. To the boy leaning casually on the reception counter of Puller’s Autobody, the day was down-and-out boring. To him, the air didn't seem soft and sweet with pollen, but rather stale and acrid. Instead of peaceful and refreshing, the gentle breeze that came in and out of the shop with was, instead, bothersome. He couldn't help but be bothered by the littlest things. Even the way in which this woman walked about the reception area of the shop bothered him. He was close to snapping at her to stop poking and prodding at everything from the magazines supplied for bored patrons to the crooked posters on the wall. Even if he did find the posters mediocre at best, he still had a responsibility to keep renewing their ever-peeling tape. The boy sighed through his nose and waited for the clock's second hand to budge onto a new minute.

The town wasn’t much different from the monotony of the shop. As a kid, the boy thought Elderwood was a place of untold mystery, the delights of “small-town living" for which people so often yearned. As he grew, that delight began to wane. It waned and waned until his delight was nothing but a sliver. The only thing keeping him rooted here at all was his best friend, who would surely hunt him down and drag him back if he were to leave without him. The boy cracked a small smile as he thought about what his best friend would do. His friend was known by the nickname "Lucky.” But he wasn't really all that lucky.

They were supposed to meet after his shift, but that was hours from now. So the boy sighed and watched as the woman continued to peruse the meager offerings of the reception area, probably waiting for her car to be inspected. She ran her fingers across dusty windowpanes and the cracked leather of the seats. She couldn't seem to help herself but feel everything, even the floor. He wanted to get one of his coworkers out here to let them know they had a customer, but he knew his manager would kill him for leaving the front desk unattended. Only about three or four people came in on the early afternoon shift. It was the deadest and hottest part of the day. No one in their right mind would decide, ‘Hey, it's a great time to get my car fixed!’

He kept tapping a lazy rhythm onto the counter just to see if it would bring forth his manager from the depths of the garage. His boss, Chesty Puller, was a burly man with wiry arms and a loud voice. He had taken a liking to helping kids get jobs, so Chesty was willing to hire the boy at the counter when he was fresh into high school. He made decent pay, but after about seven years of standing or sitting behind a reception desk for a garage? He had had enough of it. He couldn't go into the garage without some education in mechanics, but he really never showed any interest in cars, even if he did all the paperwork and filing for maintenance. His manager had been kind enough to let him keep coming back, and it was one of the few places in town that he could get to without having to drive. The only other place he could work without having a car was the small boutique in town, but it was run by a rather wild pair of women. They would sit in the window with their faces pressed against the glass and wait for customers. His skin felt unsettled whenever their eyes happened to hone in on him when he was passing by.

The boy huffed another sigh and tapped louder. The browsing woman gave him a scornful look with her face scrunched up and brow heavily creased. She must have thought of him as one of "those millennials.”

"Wilbur!" He jolted as he heard the voice of his manager boom across the waiting room. The browsing woman perked up with interest and looked like she wanted to poke and prod all over his manager's oil-covered jeans.

 _Gross_ , the boy, Wilbur, grimaced.

"What in God's name has been going on here today? Everyone’s out of it,” he declared to no one. He walked around the desk and tossed Wilbur a file that was almost as oily as his jeans. The file had a write-up of an inspection for a Buick that was dropped off earlier by Mr. Hitchcock, who would probably drop by two minutes before closing to pick it up, making everyone have to stay another ten or so minutes. Then, he would complain about the service and try to drag people into a conversation that could last another twenty minutes. Also, he rarely tipped. Mr. Hitchcock was a dick.

"Mr. Puller," the browsing woman asked, "I wanted to know if you would be willing to check out my car. It seems to—"

"Oh, sure I'll see it, Molly. Bring it around." Puller waved a hand over his head and turned to go back into the garage. Wilbur watched amusedly as Molly looked crestfallen that Puller didn't even glance at her. He schooled his expression when she looked over at him. Molly must've been new in town, because he didn't recognize her.

Chesty paused at the door and turned to squint at Wilbur. He said, "Isn't it time you got home?"

Wilbur glanced at the clock and noticed that he still had an hour left. He thought about whether it was worth it to stay. The truth was on the tip of his tongue, and so was the extra $13 he would make.

"Uh, I guess, yeah," he replied instead. He slid away from the counter and went to punch out. In the back, Wilbur grabbed his bag, an old backpack he never had the heart to throw away, and slipped his phone out of one of the pockets.

No new messages seemed that important. Except for maybe Lucky sending him a string of memes on Facebook Messenger. He typed in his passcode and scrolled through the rather large bombardment of “Lamb Sauce Located” memes, smiling at a few of them.

 **Run Run Rudolph:** hey r u still up to hang out

 _Lucky Ducky:_ yeah im going to be over in 15.

 **Run Run Rudolph:** cool i shoud be back at the house by then

 _Lucky Ducky:_ *should

 **Run Run Rudolph:** OK Professor Pain In The Ass

 _Lucky Ducky:_ lol see you at your house.

Wilbur rode his bike to and from work. It had held up from travel, cold, and wear; the scratches all over it had long worn into the bike’s frame. The gear shift slipped too easily between the third and fourth, the chain was always a bit too dry, and one of the pedals was coming loose. But it was the only gift from his parents that Wilbur actually appreciated, even if it was a lucky guess.

Being back and riding it through some of the wood trails that led to his house made him miss college. He missed the quad on his campus, the coffeeshops, racing his way to his 10:30 morning class, and he even missed rushing it back to his dorm when it looked like it was about to rain. Here, the neat rows of houses just made him feel trapped. Some people loved the suburban-style, rural living. He didn't belong here, not anymore.

He pulled his bike up to his house and saw that Lucky’s family car was already parked in the driveway. Wilbur smiled at the neon pink duct tape holding the bumper together. As he rolled his bike up to the garage, the driver's side door squeaked open. Lucky clambered out—he was too tall for that little Honda—and walked over to meet him.

“Yo, Runner,” he greeted with a big smile. Wilbur grinned back.

“Runner” was an old nickname from track that stuck with Wilbur from middle school to the present. Lucky had gotten his moniker early on, too. The only time Runner used Lucky’s first name was in front of his family. He noticed that Lucky’s face was tinged red with sunburn, his nose was almost crimson.

“Nice tan you have going there,” Runner teased. Lucky shoved his shoulder and gave him a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Laugh it up, asshole. I was outside all day working on the yard,” he said. He did run his fingers up to press gently on the skin of his nose. He winced and dropped his hand. Runner laughed.

“Good to see your parents are making you work for that skin cancer.”

Lucky harrumphed at him, punched in the garage code, and watched the door creak its way up. Lucky had been here enough times to have a spare key to Runner's house on his car keys, and he had no problem hopping up the garage stairs into the house before Runner finished putting away his bicycle. He was more at home here than Runner was.

Lucky was already deep into the fridge, in pursuit of orange juice, when Runner entered the kitchen. He snorted.

"It's, like, 4 p.m.. OJ is strictly a pre-11 a.m. beverage."

"Hey," Lucky replied with a grin, "I have to protect myself from scurvy somehow."

"Yeah, 'cuz you're such a pirate," Runner retorted. He slithered past Lucky and grabbed the lemonade. He shook it in Lucky's face.

"This is the _good_ citrus," Runner said with a smile. He grabbed two glasses from the cabinet. Lucky had the bad habit of drinking straight from the carton to the point that Runner gave him his own carton of orange juice. It was commonplace to find a carton in the fridge labeled with a lazily sharpied “Leckie” on the side. He tried to keep Lucky drinking from a glass as often as he could.

It was too late; Lucky already had his head tipped back.

"Lucky, use a damn glass. Stop getting your gross germs all over everything thing I own," he muttered. Lucky just laughed good-naturedly.

"It's got my name on it,” Lucky answered back. However, he did pour himself a glass. Runner really didn't care either way, but he didn’t want Lucky to finish his OJ and then steal Runner’s.

“Where are _your_ parents this time?” Lucky asked. He leaned his hip against the counter by the sink, sipping from his glass. Runner poured himself some lemonade and shrugged.

“Both on a trip somewhere for business,” he said. Lucky let out a low whistle.

“House to yourself again? You lucky dog,” he replied. His lips curled a bit in the corners. Runner felt his lips twitch and he turned to the window by the kitchen sink. Beyond the small confines of the grass in the backyard lay an expanse of woods. He could see the thorn bushes tangled between the dark trunks of the trees. He tapped that same, lazy rhythm onto the counter. He didn’t know where he had learned it.

 _It was just something ingrained in him_ , he guessed. It could’ve been one of those ingrained memory things, but Runner hardly cared.

Lucky and Runner both sipped their drinks in comfortable silence. Runner kept tapping until Lucky spoke up.

“God, I’m so fucking bored being back home.” Runner’s fingers stilled on the counter. He turned his head towards Lucky.

“You too? Jesus, I thought it was just me,” he sighed, relieved.

“Are you kidding? Going from NYU to _this_ shithole? I wish I had taken summer classes.” Lucky grinned cynically and circled a finger around the rim of his glass. He walked over to where Runner had been staring out the window.

“Do you remember when we used to go out in the woods? Those were some of the best times we had; I don’t remember why we stopped,” Lucky murmured. Glancing at Runner, he leaned his hip against the counter. He tipped back his glass, finished his juice, and smacked his lips a few times. Setting his glass down, he turned towards Runner and nudged his shin with his shoe.

“Want to go see what’s out there?” Runner raised a skeptical brow at him.

“What would be out there that’s so interesting? It’s just trees, squirrels, and birds,” he said. Lucky gave him a dry look and walked out of the kitchen to the back door by the living room. He slid the screen open and ambled out onto the back porch.

“Lucky, what the hell are you doing?” Runner walked over to the door and glared at Lucky, who had made his way halfway to the treeline. Lucky pivoted on one foot and swung his body around to face Runner with an easy grin on his face.

“Come on, Runner,” he called, “let’s go exploring!”

“I’m only coming with you because I know you’re going to go without me and die in the woods,” Runner replied. He grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and followed Lucky into the woods.

The undergrowth wasn’t as bad as Runner originally thought, even if some thorns snared his jeans. It took a little time for Runner to feel happy he was wearing durable boots. Birdsong echoed from everywhere. There wasn’t a second of silence between their calls. It had rained a few days ago, thick patches of murky leaves spotted the forest floor. Lucky looked over his shoulder and grinned.

“I still can’t believe you’re wearing jeans and a flannel right now, man.” Lucky was sporting shorts and a T-shirt. Runner took notice of the red scratches from the bushes on Lucky’s legs.

“I’m not going to look like I was attacked by a horde of cats, so,” Runner retorted. He waved an annoying mosquito away from his face.

“We should’ve brought bug spray,” he complained. Lucky just rolled his eyes; Runner couldn’t see his face, since he continued walking, but he just knew. Perks of knowing your best friend since elementary school.

“Will you quit complaining and have some fun?”

“Maybe, if you tell me what we’re doing,” Runner grumbled. The mosquito in his ear was quite persistent.

“I don’t know,” Lucky said. “Maybe we could try to find cryptids. Our very own Jersey Devil or Owl Man, right here in Elderwood.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m not getting eaten by the Dover Demon for your sick obsession about copulating with Mothman.”

Lucky burst out laughing and skipped over a mossy log. He replied,

“The fact that you know of the Dover Demon is proof that you do actually listen to me when I talk.”

Runner jogged forward to walk beside Lucky. He shoved Lucky’s shoulder. “How could I forget any of that shit when you had me watch every single episode of _Lost Tapes_ a thousand times?”

“Just admit you loved it. Even if it was incredibly cheesy, it was amazing,” Lucky grinned. Runner still had nightmares about the closet vampire episode. He was going to take that one to the grave. If Lucky knew, Runner would never live it down.

“Whatever,” Runner said. “Seriously, what are we doing out here?”

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment,” Lucky declared. He gracefully dodged a low branch that hit Runner in the face.

“Who the hell said that? It’s too smart to be you.” Runner laughed as Lucky lazily tried to swipe at his head.

“Thoreau; he got high and watched ants, so I’m pretty sure I’m smarter than him.”

“You get high and watch David Attenborough documentaries. I don’t want to assume,” Runner said, “but I think that’s almost the same thing. Just less ‘I went into the woods to live deliberately.’”

Lucky scoffed, “It’s ‘I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately.’ Get your quotes right.”

“Semantics,” Runner shrugged. Lucky pulled him into a playful headlock.

“I’m the English major, asshole. Don’t talk to me about Semantics,” he retorted. Runner pulled himself away and almost stumbled over another log. A lot of trees seemed to have fallen in this forest. They passed by what would have been a thick copse, but every tree had collapsed, limbs resting against each other to form a crude lean-to. Lucky trailed over towards it and did a small spin underneath; there was enough room for a small group of people to comfortably stand together with some height to spare above them. Runner walked over, stood beside Lucky, looked up at the fallen trees.

“God, the storms have really taken out a lot of trees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Lucky replied. “But I didn’t think they could take down so many healthy ones. A lot of these are pretty good-looking, you know?” Lucky walked out from under the trees and continued away from the direction of civilization.

“Good-looking? You want to fuck trees now?” Runner joked. He jogged ahead of Lucky to dodge another headlock.

“Seriously though, this is a bit weird. Maybe a Sasquatch took these out,” Lucky said mischievously. He ran a hand over another one of the fallen logs.

“If we ever do find a supernatural creature, are you going to get down on one knee and propose to it?” Lucky pouted at Runner.

“I wouldn’t propose that quickly,” he replied. “It’ll take a few months of dating before either of us will be ready for that.”

“Can I be your best man?” Runner asked, weaving around some more thorns. A startled catbird fluttered nearby. It hopped up onto a rock formation and flapped its wings agitatedly at Runner.

“You can be my best man, but only if you promise not to be a dick to my cryptid spouse.” Lucky neatly hopped over the thorns and caught up to Runner.

The further they got into the woods, the louder the birds seemed to become. Runner thought it was a bit odd that there were a lot of birds sitting on branches looking at them. It gave him a weird feeling, like an uncomfortable stirring in his gut. They kept walking and climbing over logs and rocks until the trees began to thin. Intrigued, Lucky looked around.

“Huh,” he said, “I don’t think there are any settlements nearby.”

“I can’t believe you just used ‘settlements’ like you’re some goddamned pioneer,” Runner grumbled.

“Well, Clark, I guess we’ll have to see what’s up ahead,” Lucky grunted as he nearly stumbled into a ditch. Runner looked over his shoulder at a few finches. They were puffed up next to each other, chirping at him and Lucky. If he was a bit more spiritual, he’d think they were staring at him directly. However, Runner was not that spiritual and their beady, black eyes couldn’t have been staring at him, right?

 _God, I need to stop watching weird shit with Lucky_.

Lucky hadn’t mentioned anything about the birds, so maybe Runner was just going crazy. He plodded along behind Lucky as he led the way through the slowly thinning wood. They found a small, gurgling stream that bubbled across their path. It was surprisingly quick for how level the ground was. Lucky hopped over it and waited for Runner on the other side.

“You coming, Clark?” He asked with a grin. Runner huffed.

The second he set foot on the other side of the stream, the birds stopped chirping. He turned his head to see that the birds had flown off. The only sounds now were the rustles of leaves in the wind.

“Runner,” Lucky called. “Come check this out!”

“Weird,” he muttered to himself. Lucky had pulled ahead to what seemed to be an expansive meadow.

The wind was stronger and buffeted their bodies. Long stalks of golden grass and small wildflowers swayed and danced. The wildflowers were a soft and royal purple. Runner crouched down and ran his fingers along the bulbs.

“I’ve never seen these types of flowers before.” He turned his head to squint up at Lucky. “Pretty weird, huh?”

“I think they’re a type of hyacinth? They look like a hyacinths,” Lucky mumbled. He gazed out over the meadow and squinted at something in the distance.

“Runner, look,” he said. He began walking out into the meadow. Runner dusted off his knees and rose to follow him. The grass seemed to pull at his jeans, and Runner was seriously wondering if there was some actual, magical merit to Lucky’s wild cryptid chase. Lucky called something out to him, but the wind was so strong he couldn’t hear. Lucky was pointing at something, and Runner followed his finger to a hulking tree.

It was rooted in the center of the meadow with a thick, twisting trunk. The tree’s low branches swooped across the ground and created messy swathes of shade. Its leaves tossed and turned in tumultuous waves from the wind. Despite the wind, the tree was strong and imposing. Its presence was that of a monarch, and Lucky and Runner were in its kingdom. Runner had rarely seen a tree look so formidable. The closer they got, the more Runner felt like they were trespassing. He had to keep telling himself, _It’s just a tree. It’s just a tree. It’s just a tree._

Soon the tree was close enough that they could hear its wood creaking. The tree grumbled and groaned at them, and the wind whistling through the leaves sounded like hissing. Instead of sounding like a normal tree, all Runner could hear was a symphony of “ _Go away_.” The gnarled roots at the base had upheaved through the earth long ago, and Runner swore that they were moving.

“Are you getting some really creepy vibes from this, dude?” Runner tugged on Lucky’s shirt sleeve. “Because I am getting some serious ‘fuck you’ vibes, right now.”

“I think you’re just scared,” Lucky teased. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“Fuck off, Lucky,” Runner shoved his shoulder. Lucky let himself be shoved and let it propel him towards the tree. The wind howled a bit louder, and Runner tried to shake off the bad feeling he was getting.

“Lucky, I don’t know if this is the best idea,” he called out. Lucky either was ignoring him or hadn’t heard him over the wind. Lucky hopped up onto a root and swung a leg over a low branch. The tree quieted as soon as Lucky touched the tree, and Runner had had about enough of the weird, quasi-supernatural phenomena for one day.

“Lucky,” he hissed, “there is some freaky shit going on, and I think we should go back.”

Lucky’s sarcastic grin faded a bit when he looked at Runner. He shifted a bit on the branch.

“You’re really nervous right now,” he stated, expression serious. Runner folded his arms against his chest and huffed.

“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious. I’ve been feeling and seeing weird shit since the stream. Can we just go? We can come back another day, but this is just too weird for me right now,” he said anxiously.

Runner looked at the branches. The wind kept bellowing, but the leaves were still. A shiver trickled down his spine and settled deep in his stomach. Runner’s breath quickened and his head began to throb with an oncoming headache. Something was very _wrong_ with this tree. They needed to leave. Now.

“What have you been seeing?” Lucky asked as he slid off the branch. All at once, the tree seemed to sigh in relief. The leaves trembled gently and then resumed their swaying. Runner’s throat felt full and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He stumbled up to Lucky, trying to ignore how the trunk creaked warningly at him.

“Just,” Runner gestured weakly at the tree, “that.”

“How specific,” Lucky deadpanned. Runner shook his head and grabbed Lucky’s arm. They needed to get away from this creepy tree. They needed to get out of this meadow.

Once they crossed through the flowers and back to the stream, Runner nearly kissed the ground on the other side. All at once, the birds began to sing again and Runner’s feelings of nausea and fear passed.

“Mind explaining what that little stunt meant?” Lucky asked with a quirked brow. He seemed a bit more than miffed that Runner had interrupted his tree-climbing. Runner waved his arms at the trees.

“That’s what I meant! The birds instantly stopped singing as soon as we crossed the stream. That’s fucking weird.” Lucky looked at him like it hadn’t even occurred to him to gauge his surroundings. This was why Mrs. Leckie had told Runner at a young age that Robert was going to need someone to look after him in life. Today and for every day prior, that someone was Runner. Else, Lucky would be dead in a ditch in France or some other faraway bullshit country.

“So, birds,” he replied. Runner wanted to shake him by the shoulders. Throttling his neck was on the list, too.

“Not just the birds! The weird meadow with the wind and the angry tree, too. The tree was pissed that we were there,” Runner practically shouted.

“The tree,” Lucky said slowly, “was _angry_ at us.”

“Okay,” Runner pointed a finger at Lucky and glared, “You cannot, _cannot_ , give me that ‘you’re completely ridiculous and crazy’ shit when you were the one who wanted to go fuck some weird cryptid in the woods. I’m just telling you, that tree was seriously upset. It was giving me dangerous vibes, and I, being the only one in this friendship with self-preservation skills, decided to listen to it.”

“Alright! Jesus, Runner,” Lucky whined. “There’s no need to mother-rant at me.”

“I’m not going to apologize, dude,” Runner replied shortly. “We are not going to be the white people who die in the woods at the beginning of a horror movie, I refuse.”

“So we can just die later and you won’t complain?” Lucky snorted. Runner let out the resigned sigh that had seemed to be slipping out of him all day. The sun had slowly begun to dip its way between the branches as they trekked back through the brush and trees.

A gentle breeze seemed to follow them, carrying with it the thick, oversweet scent of the meadow grass. It circled them like a predator, filling their senses imposingly.

“Which way now?” Lucky asked. Runner felt a bit lost as well. He walked forward towards a thick-trunked tree and rested his hand against it. His fingers automatically caressed the bark as his mind raced for the trail they took. An image of the rock formation came to mind, the same one to which the catbird had flown.

“Have we passed the pile of rocks?” Runner wondered aloud. Lucky peered at him.

“We passed it on our way,” Runner continued.

“Why would I keep track of that? You know me, bro,” Lucky said. Runner’s face creased into a frustrated scowl. Lucky replied with an innocent shrug.

“Climb up a few branches on a tree and check, would you, Clark?” Runner asked faux-sweetly. Lucky huffed and strolled over to the nearest climbable tree. This time, there were no sounds of dangerous creaking and cacophonous wind. As Lucky went hand after foot, there were only the sounds of a normal forest. Runner wasn’t going to go out in the woods again.

 _Fuck Walt Whitman_ , he thought decidedly, _that dude was a loon, anyway._

Lucky eventually started calling down to Runner about things he had seen, and he could indeed see a jumble of large rocks about four hundred feet away. When he climbed back down, Lucky led the way towards the rocks.

Runner turned towards his house and had to refrain from sprinting towards it. Lucky was jittering beside him; he must’ve been thinking the same. Their shoes crunched and sloshed on the leaf litter, Runner in boots, Lucky in Converse. The birds’ chatter had died down as it got darker, and the two broke through the treeline into Runner’s backyard once dusk had firmly arrived.

“Fucking finally,” Runner muttered. He opened the back door, tore off his boots, and made his way to the kitchen to start on dinner. He turned to Lucky, who had closed the door behind him.

“I’m making the pasta. You want some? There’s some leftover taco stuff in the fridge, too.” Runner was on his toes, reaching for some plates and glasses from the cupboards.

“Oh, uh, sorry, Runner. I’m going back to have dinner with my family, remember?” Lucky looked like he would definitely rather not go back home. “I fucking hate having dinner with them, but if I don’t go, then I won’t hear the end of it. A nice, bland chicken with bland conversation.”

“Oh. Sucks, dude,” Runner mumbled back. He put the extra plate and glass away, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yeah, my mom moved all her junk into my room when I left for spring semester again. I think it’s her way of telling me to get out of the house,” Lucky continued. He often ranted about his parents like that.

“You should get going. Don’t want to miss that dinner, right?” Runner reminded. He followed the grumbling Lucky to the door. They bade one another farewell. Lucky pulled out of his driveway in his little Honda and was gone.

Runner shut the front door and locked it. Who knew when his parents would be home, or if they would be home this summer at all? There was never a point to wait for them, so Runner made dinner for one. His kitchen smelled of herb and garlic, and it made the vacant space feel temporarily full and brimming with warmth. He thought of what he imagined a grandmother’s home to feel like; there was an ever-present warmth that sunk deep into the foundations of grandmothers’ homes. Runner closed his eyes and pictured sitting at an old wooden table with a fussy Italian grandmother hovering over him, making sure he ate all that was on his plate. The image fell sadly flat, since he never had anything real to base it off of. Sure, he could try thinking of what he saw in movies or read in books, but there was no memory that he could use. Melancholy soured his thoughts, so he discarded that fantasy grandmother and her fantasy kitchen with all its warmth. The pasta didn’t look nearly as enticing, but he finished making it anyway. Phone in one hand and plate in the other, he walked up the stairs to his room and shut his door with his foot.

Runner enjoyed eating at his desk, just like he had at school. He could almost convince himself that he was back in the dorms, eating salty noodles or cheap takeout. His phone buzzed twice and the screen lit up with a message from Lucky.  

 _Lucky Ducky:_ my folks are already arguing and mom over-steamed the veggies again.

Runner sighed at the message and didn’t open it. He unlocked his phone and scrolled through Instagram and Twitter instead. Lucky would soon send a string of messages and _then_ Runner would reply. After being blown off, he was too tired to think of a kind response.

His phone buzzed again. It was a text. Runner opened messages and the text conversation.

42 Wallaby Way : hey bud what’s up?

 **Runner:** eating pasta for dinner, hbu sid-boy

42 Wallaby Way : watching eugene suck at overwatch. he’s terrible and keeps rage-quitting.

 **Runner:** omg pls take a video

42 Wallaby Way  : [Video Sent]

Runner cackled at the slightly blurry video of Sid’s friend, Eugene, screaming at the screen. He replayed it twice and muffled his laughter to properly hear the wild profanities streaming from Eugene’s mouth. Runner could hear Sid stifling his giggles poorly behind the screen.

 **Runner:** that was so fucking funny dude omfg

42 Wallaby Way : ikr! hes so pissed and im so happy i made sure to mute the michael

42 Wallaby Way : *mic

 **Runner:** all the 8 yr olds would be trashing him so bad rn

42 Wallaby Way  : for real. are you eating alone again?

 **Runner:** .. yeah.

42 Wallaby Way  : :( aw dude im sorry. do u wanna ft so u have some company?

 **Runner:** not tonight. have fun with eugene. we can ft tomorrow night tho. im gonna sleep so goodnight sid

42 Wallaby Way  : ok cool. get some sleep and all that. love u dude “no homo” lol

 **Runner:** luv u too u giant sap

42 Wallaby Way  : :#)

Runner grinned at his phone; Sid could never let him be in a bad mood for too long. There was something so kind and warm about him that melted away anger. He and Runner had been friends since freshman orientation. Almost four years later, they were still the best of friends. Runner definitely counted Lucky as his “bestest” friend, but there was no denying that Sid had taken a very large place in Runner’s heart. Even though they were about twenty hours worth of driving away from each other, it didn’t stop the everyday stream of communication. Their longest Snapchat streaks were each other’s.

Runner scratched his arm and got up to get ready for bed. He really did have to go to sleep; he was going to go for an early run. He was hoping to feel well enough to push sixteen miles, but the romping in the woods? He would have to see how he felt when he woke up.

After getting ready for bed, Runner resigned himself to staring at his ceiling. He could smell the garlic oil from the empty bowl on his desk. The bed sheets were soft and well-worn, and they surrounded him in a gentle cocoon of heat. He didn’t mind going to bed hot; it had never seemed to bother him. Sid always complained that Runner’s bed was too hot and would over-exaggeratedly throw the covers off to escape the oppressive heat.

Runner went to bed reminiscing about college and Sid. It left a bitter tang in his mouth when he thought of his life away from his hometown. His heart ached for a dorm bed and crappy dining-hall food.

Though he didn’t know it in that moment, that feeling in his gut was homesickness.

 

The blue-grey of the morning floated across the jogging path in the gentle mist of evaporating dew. Tendrils of clouds wisped across the sky in wait for a slow sunrise. Runner could hear the sounds of drowsy birds as his running shoes beat a rhythm into the worn dirt. His breathing was quiet as he moved down the path. The trees whisked by on either side of him. Some were white pines, others oaks. The woods smelled of wet, thick foliage and underbrush, and Runner was relieved that there was not a hint of meadow grass in the air.

His chest was filled with trepidation for going back into the outskirts of the wilderness so soon (manmade paths were decidedly not “wilderness”). Runner’s dreams had been plagued by the massive tree and the meadow. Usually, his dreams consisted of something he had thought of in passing, or something he was stressed about that he was forgetting. Sometimes, they made no sense at all and were filled with wondrously imaginative figures.

The dreams of last night twisted in Runner’s mind. He could hear the tree’s groaning creaks and the roar of the wind. In the dream, Runner was stuck in the muddy marsh of the meadow. It seemed like hours that the tree and the wind hounded him. He had never woken up so scared before. To be afraid of the wind and trees seemed ridiculous, but even the _Lost Tapes_ vampire nightmares couldn’t compare in horror. He tried every tactic he could to wake himself up.

As the sun began to creep its way over the branches, the birdsong became perkier. Soft, flitting chirps developed into melodies, and Runner could see the small birds darting in the branches above him. Their eyes weren’t following him, now. They acted as normal birds should. Runner had been running for a while without keeping track, but that was normal for him in the cross-country off-season. He would start keeping closer track of his times when July started, but June was his time to relax.

Running was something he was good at, and it was something he enjoyed. It certainly helped him get a scholarship at school, but there was something rewarding about letting his body stretch and move. He could not think about what his body was doing and focus on other things. Once, he wrote an entire essay in his head while jogging on the treadmill at the college gym. His teammates were scattered about different social pools, so he really didn’t see them that often. Before a meet, they would have a pasta party, play card games, and talk about their classes. It was nice, but he never really felt like he was solidly part of a real team. They were a team through similarities of athletic ability and their gold and black uniforms, but were near strangers otherwise.

Runner eventually slowed to a stop to drink some water and catch his breath. He took a gulp from his water bottle and immediately spat it back out.

“Ew, what the hell?” He gargled around the sour taste in his mouth. He shook the bottle and saw some black mold floating in it. He had only left in the window for a few days.

 _I knew I should’ve cleaned this out_ , he mourned.

He upturned the bottle and watched the mold-water splash into the leaf litter at his feet. Runner was thirsty, and he knew there was a potable stream up ahead. He and Lucky used to explore the paths and pretend they were in Middle Earth, and they often stopped and drank from the stream to “preserve their strength for Rohan.”

The forest became a bit softer underfoot. Runner ran lightly down to the old bridge by the stream. The old planks needed replacing, but no one ran down this path anymore.  The town invested in maintaining one path and had disregarded the rest. The “Bridge Path” was one of many other trails that had become overgrown with low-lying ferns, but Runner had beaten it back every time he had returned for a break during the semester.

As he approached the foot of the bridge, he paused. Even though the town had stopped doing maintenance on it over two years ago, Runner had always been able to safely cross it. The winter storms must have done some major damage to it, since half of it looked in danger of collapsing. One of the railings was completely gone, lying dejected at the bottom of the stream bed. Some of the planks were splintering or torn away. Runner carefully approached it and inspected the damage.

“These storms really did a number on things around here, didn’t they?” He placed one foot on the first plank of the bridge and applied pressure. It creaked dangerously before cracking right where his foot was. Runner hopped back and watched as the bridge seemed to shudder before precariously settling again. A strong gust of wind tossed the leaves above him, and Runner’s heart skipped a beat.

“Great,” he muttered as he stared up at the canopy, “I’m afraid of wind now. Vento-phobic or something. That’s me.”

Runner wracked his brain, thinking about all of the strange things that had happened since he got back. First, a really creepy tree, then the dreams, and now, he seemed to be finding destroyed shit everywhere. Chunks of forest were bowled over and leveled to the ground, while others were as healthy as they should be.

He skidded down the short bank and steadied himself just short of the stream. He dipped his fingers into the water. It looked fine to drink, so he cupped his hands and slurped the water into his mouth. Once he had his fill, he hopped back up onto the path.

He startled as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Runner looked at the screen and saw the reminder that he needed to head back. His shift started in three hours, so he left the bridge and his worries behind and jogged to his house.

 

Work was dull as usual, but at least that woman (Molly, Mary?) wasn’t bothering him by fussing around the shop. A few people from town dropped by, including Mrs. Gibson. The older woman was frazzled-looking, but her pleasant smile softened her electric edges.

“Oh, Wilbur Conley,” she cooed. “I didn’t know you were home for the summer.”

“Hi, Mrs. Gibson,” Runner greeted. “Yeah, I got back from school a few weeks ago. How’re things?”

“Oh, same old, you know.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s been a bit hectic but everything settles in the end.”

Runner didn’t know a good response to that, so he nodded and asked if she wanted to get her car inspected. Her car was a little, golden Subaru with the dents and scrapes that came with age. It was beloved like a book with a worn spine. Runner found it, although not a classic like a Mercedes, a quaint antique. She cheerfully reported that her radiator was giving her some trouble, and Runner went to Chesty’s office door and knocked.

“Wilbur, what is it?” Chesty barked. He cracked the worn door open and peered at Runner with a blazing eye.

“Mrs. Gibson’s radiator is giving her some trouble, so she wants to get it checked out.” Runner twitched with amusement as Chesty threw open the door and lumbered out to the lobby. He had a soft spot for Mrs. Gibson.

“Mrs. Gibson!” He greeted in a voice that would be found in that of a gruff, Medieval barbarian. “Let’s take a look at your little sweetheart, shall we?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Gibson perked up. “That would be lovely.”

Runner sat back down in his chair and watched as the two went out to the garage. Work was always seeing the same faces for a breath and then long periods of dead quiet. He could hear their muffled conversation echoing from the garage as Chesty hollered for some of the other workers in the garage to take in Mrs. Gibson’s “sweetheart”.

The air and dust floated back down into the stuffy heat that the lobby loved in the summer months. Runner hoped he wouldn’t have to lift his arms, because there were sweat stains that he wouldn’t be able to hide. No amount of antiperspirant could prevent the damp sweat that pooled under his arms or across his back. Runner rested his head on his forearms and huffed a large sigh.

He wished he was back at school, but he wanted to be back there because he felt like the world was so much bigger. Double-majoring in Economics and Engineering crammed his schedule full, and there never seemed to be a moment to surface from stress. He hated his classes, even though he excelled in them. He hated that he was on a track to getting his Masters at another faraway school that his parents would pay for but never visit.

Runner felt his stomach swoop into the bit of despair it sifted into whenever he thought about his future. Sometimes, he thought of the hamster Lucky had as a kid. It would run and run and run on its wheel until it flopped onto its side in exhaustion. It had lived for a few years and had spent most of it running on its colorful wheel. One day it just collapsed and died. Runner feared that he would follow suit, running in place until he himself dropped dead.

Later that afternoon, Runner heard the door to the garage squeak open. Lucky stormed into the kitchen, but the angry effect was ruined by his vibrantly-colorful socks. Runner looked up from his sandwich in confusion. He was in pajamas and in no way ready for a serious conversation while wearing kitten-covered pants.

“Hey,” he said around a mouthful of food. “What’s up?”

“Family shit,” Lucky replied shortly. “Usual shit.”

“Oh,” Runner said. He swallowed. “What’s going on now?”

“Ugh, my mom is trying to get my sisters home for July Fourth and they’re going to bring  their boyfriends, and my brother is being a total ass about sharing the bathroom, and my other brother just sprung his engagement on all of us. Now my parents are freaking out about a wedding and I have to sleep in the basement room.”

“Wait, when’s the wedding?” Runner asked. Lucky had a bad habit of rambling out of order, so Runner always had to parse through his words carefully.

“It’s at the end of the summer, and they want it at the house,” Lucky groaned. He crossed his arms and sat down at the counter next to Runner.

“Shit. That’s in, like, three months,” Runner said. “What about July Fourth? Your parents want everyone there for that again? Even though the Leckie Catastrophe of 2011 is still seared into our memories because of Facebook’s tagging function?”

“Oh,” Lucky growled. “Don’t get me started on our stupid cookout. Not only are they having it two weeks  _after_ the fourth, it’s a Leckie family reunion, which you have to come to because I am _not_ suffering that by myself.”

“A _reunion_?” Runner’s eyebrows rose considerably. That sounded like five bad ideas merged into one, giant Bad Idea Monster.

“It was Dad’s idea, so we all just rolled with it. The old man is probably going to ask for my dead brother to be there, and then ruin it for everybody. Mom’ll cry, everyone will be awkward, and I’ll just go smoke in the cornfield near the shack.” Lucky rested his chin on his forearms and looked distant.

“Got it all planned out, huh?” Runner scoffed. Lucky glanced at him and snorted.

“You know I have to be, Conley,” he murmured. Runner patted his shoulder comfortingly, but didn’t say anything else. It was best to let the moment drift. Lucky would be alright; he needed someone to vent to, and Runner was a pretty good listener.

“So,” Lucky started, “how about we try that tree thing again? Maybe it won’t be so angry if we go on our next day off?”

“Bro, I don’t want to die,” Runner complained. “Why are you like this?”

“Well, I’m a white guy, so that’s probably got something to do with it.” Lucky rubbed his chin, pretending to be thinking hard about his addiction to doing dangerous shit.

“I’m not going. Fuck that tree. It will kill us.” Runner shook his head. He slid off his seat and grabbed some water from the fridge. Lucky wore an amused expression.

“I’ll just go there by myself, then,” he drawled. Runner nearly dropped the Brita filter.

“I hate you so much,” he snapped defeatedly. “When’s your next day off?”

Lucky drummed his palms on the counter with a triumphant grin. He replied, “I have the day off on Friday, if that works for you. We can bring food and eat lunch out there. We could smoke, too.”

“You know I don’t smoke anymore, dude,” Runner said. He waved a hand in Lucky’s direction at his sound of protest. “Lunch, yes. Weed, no.”

“Aww,” Lucky pouted. He turned on the puppy-dog eyes and fluttered his eyelashes. “Pwease?”

“Just for the ‘pwease,’ I will launch you into traffic if you so much as mention smoking a spliff again,” Runner retorted. Lucky made a whining noise and Runner rolled his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic,” Runner said.

“Like you’re any different!” Lucky gawked. He tipped his chair back and held onto the counter with his hands.

“I’m curious about it, is all,” Lucky claimed loftily. His fingers slipped on the counter and he scrambled to regain his balance as the chair tipped dangerously.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Runner said. “Aren’t you into all that cliché shit?”

“Satisfaction brought it back,” Lucky returned. “And no, I hate clichés.”

“You wrote a whole research paper about their importance in the shaping of social interaction! I know you did, because you made me edit it!” Runner put the Brita filter back into the fridge before realizing he hadn’t even refilled his glass. Lucky noticed and giggled.

“Doesn’t mean I like clichés in the least,” he said, reaching over to grab the other half of Runner’s sandwich. Runner squawked in defense of his lunch, but let him have it.

“Alright, so we can meet at my house at two p.m. on Friday? How does that sound?” Runner tapped his fingers on the counter. Lucky made a humming noise around his mouthful of Runner’s sandwich.

“One p.m. would be better, but, yeah, Friday works,” Lucky agreed. He swallowed the food in his mouth and looked down at his phone with a grimace.

“Shit, I have to go back. Mom’s making some casserole dish and wants us to have ‘routine family dinners’ now. Can you believe that?” Lucky scoffed harshly. Runner shrugged and continued drumming his fingers. He wished he could tell his best friend the right words to make him feel better, but, in all the years they had known each other, the right words never came.

“Sorry, man,” Runner mumbled. Lucky sighed deeply.

“Have a good night, bro. See you on Friday,” Lucky said defeatedly. Runner walked him to the door and watched as he drove out of the driveway.

He walked back into the kitchen and sat at the counter. His plate was empty save for bread crumbs. The house was empty, too. There was a small note stuck to the fridge with a magnet. The paper was a cheerful pink, but the message left a sour taste in Runner’s mouth.

“In Manhattan for two weeks,” it said. It was his father’s handwriting. His mother was somewhere else, but she never wrote where she was going. Sometimes, he’d get a text if she was coming back early, but other than a half-assed note, Runner got radio silence. He bet that the two weeks would mysteriously spread out to a month, then two months. Maybe his dad just wouldn’t come back for a year. That had happened before.

He put his plate in the dishwasher and knew it was going to take him a while to fill it. He had about four more days until it would count as half-full, and he’d probably run it anyway; it wasn’t like he paid the bills. The plate clattered lightly as it was slid into place. Runner sighed and closed the dishwasher. He went straight to his room and sat down at his desk. It was better not to think about how empty everything seemed to be in Elderwood, even the place he was supposed to call “home.”

Runner thought about the last time Lucky asked him about his life, but drew up a blank. The only things he could think of were Lucky complaining about _his_ life and _his_ family. It always seemed to fall on _him_ , and Runner felt bitter. He would go to the Lucky family dinner just to be able to say he went to a _family_ dinner for once. The last time the Conley’s had dinner together was before Runner was eight. Since then, one or both of his parents were abroad with work. There was only one used chair in the dining room.

Runner put his head in his hands and felt hot tears wet his lashes. He swallowed and took some deep breaths. His fingernails left small crescents in his palms where he was squeezing them. It helped stable him enough to calm down.

Picking up his phone, Runner ran a hand through his hair and typed out a message to Sid.

 **Runner** : hey i could really use a ft session rn are u up?

42 Wallaby Way : you always ask that like im not a few hours behind you

42 Wallaby Way : yeah i can. one sec i have to go to my room

 **Runner** : call me when u r ready

Barely a minute passed before his screen lit up and buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. He pressed “Accept” and waited for the camera to load.

Sid’s face came into the screen. Runner couldn’t help but notice Sid was wearing a white shirt that showed off his sun-kissed skin and golden curls. Sid’s face was creased in his patented expression of concern.

“Hey, Bud, are you okay?” He asked immediately. Sid always asked if he was okay in the sense of “you’re not in crisis, right?” Runner’s heart softened and his residual bitterness at Lucky ebbed into something somber.

“Yeah, I’m doing alright. Just upset and lonely. How are you doing? Alabama treating you okay?” Runner leaned his phone on the stack of textbooks on his desk and watched as Sid shifted a bit before getting more comfortable. _He must be on his bed_ , Runner thought.

“I’m doing as good as I can be,” Sid replied. His southern accent plodded off his tongue. Runner told him once that his drawl was like a rowboat on a gentle lake. Sid had blushed and said his nickname should’ve been “Writer” or “Poet.”

“Good as you can be? That sounds not as good as usual,” Runner commented. He leaned his head into one hand and drummed his fingers on the desk. Sid sighed.

“I’m thinking this is the summer,” Sid said cryptically. It took Runner a second before connecting the dots.

“Oh, shit! Really?” He exclaimed. Runner and Sid had a rule for FaceTime, which was not to “mention anything about being not-straight and _definitely_ not to talk about how the two of them were once a thing.”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready. I think they’re ready, too,” he said in a hopeful voice. Unlike Sid, Runner was perfectly fine with keeping his sexuality a secret from his parents. He didn’t even see them often enough for them to know him, so what point was there for telling them he was _pan_ sexual? None; they probably didn’t even know what pansexuality meant. Sid ached for his parents’ approval, and Runner had supported him when he found out he was interested in more than just girls.

“I’m really proud of you, Sid. Even if this isn’t the summer, I still am going to be proud of you. You know that, right?” Runner smiled at him and saw Sid look down at his lap with a grin.

“You always know the right things to say,” Sid whispered. He glanced worriedly towards his door before murmuring, “I wish you could be here with me to do it. I’d feel braver.”

“I wish I was there, too,” Runner’s eyes looked at Sid’s through their iPhone cameras and felt inches and worlds away from him at the same time. Runner missed Sid and wished that he could save him from the stress of coming out. They had been friends for a few years, and Sid had always been the more sensitive and clueless of the two.

Runner remembered meeting Sid. They were at their Boiler Gold Rush a week before classes for their freshman year, where no one knew anybody. Runner had been there for a few weeks already, prepping for track in the fall. His body was sore from that morning’s workout, so he was sitting out of most of the mingling. He saw a boy walk up to him with an antsy expression on his face and turned to greet him. He was wearing a button-down and khakis. This guy’s mom probably dressed him and definitely knew he stood out against the shorts and t-shirt conglomerate that congregated in the middle of the room.

“Hey, man,” Runner had said with a small smile. “I’m Wilbur Conley, but call me ‘Runner.’”

“‘Runner? You on the track team?’” The boy asked. He stuck out his hand. Runner got a bit mystified in the guy’s soft eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied. “Been here for a few weeks already for training.”

“Wow, that’s cool. So you know some people here, huh?” He asked. Runner nodded.

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool. So, what’s your name?” The boy smiled crookedly. “Guess I forgot my manners for a second. Name’s Sidney Phillips. Friends call me ‘Sid.’”

“So, should I call you Sidney or Sid?” Runner asked. He internally clenched when he realized how flirty that sounded, but Sid laughed as his cheeks turned a bit red.

“Sid’s just fine,” he said. Runner deflated in relief.

“I’m going to take a wild guess, but are you from the south?” Runner leaned his hip against the table next him and crossed his arms. He sounded so fucking flirty, but this guy was really cute and he might as well. It was a huge school. It wasn’t like they would see each other again.

“Alabama, born and raised,” Sid grinned. “How about you? You sound northern, so somewhere in New England?”

“A small town in New York.” Runner said. “Hopefully, Sid, we can get along with us being on opposite sides of the Mason-Dixon?”

“You already call me ‘Sid,’ so I think we’re on the right track.” Runner’s face burned when he realized that there was a chance that Sid was flirting back.

They had gotten each other’s numbers and texted sporadically throughout the first few weeks. Runner had a few classes by Sid’s dorm, so they would meet up afterwards and walk to one of the dining halls. The best halls were a half-hour walk away, so they had plenty of time to enjoy each other’s company. They studied together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Sid’s family was pretty well off, so he insisted upon buying Runner coffee in the mornings they met up. Over the course of a few months, they did almost everything together. Eventually, things escalated from friendship to something more, but went back to friendship again. Runner was reminiscing about "something more" until Sid’s voice broke him out of the daydream.

“So I got some interesting news,” Sid said.

Runner startled a bit. “What?”

“Something on your mind?” Sid asked. His face went back to concern.

“Uh, yeah,” Runner mumbled. His cheeks heated. “Just thinking about November frosh year.”

Sid’s face went scarlet. “Oh, yeah. I was a bit, too. Feels like a long time ago.”

“Yeah. Anyway, what’s your news?” Runner asked. He shifted in his chair to wake himself up a bit.

“Well,” Sid whispered, looking around his room, “Eugene’s been messaging this…person from Louisiana, and I think they’re almost online dating or something.”

“So this…person,” Runner repeated the pause, “is a ‘person,’ yes?”

“Yes,” Sid replied. “He’s super serious about their friendship, and I think he has a crush on this…person.”

“So,” Runner raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell him? It might be better to do it before telling your parents.”

“I...” Sid fumbled. He looked scared. “I don’t know. What if I’m just making things up, or if he was like me before I met you? All mean and insecure? What if I lose him?”

“Sid, you’ve been friends since diapers,” Runner soothed. “I’m pretty sure if you were a cannibal who ate babies, Eugene would still be your friend.”

“I don’t know,” Sid replied with uncertainty. His eyes started drifting away from the screen and he looked increasingly uncomfortable. Runner knew when to push, and this was not the time.

“Alright, just sleep on it for me, okay? You don’t have to.” Sid looked a bit less terrified at Runner’s support, but his face was still despairing.

“Don’t get too stressed; your face will break out again,” Runner ordered. Sid barked a laugh.

“Thanks, Bud. Always lookin’ out for me.” Sid gave him a crooked smile.

“Call me anytime you need to, alright? You know my folks are never home,” Runner said.

“If I need to, I will. Where are they this time? Florida Keys? Berlin?”

“Mom is somewhere, and Dad’s off to Manhattan,” Runner sighed. Sid frowned.

“Shit,” he said bluntly. “When was the last time you saw them?”

“End of May, I think? I can’t really pinpoint it,” Runner replied. He racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. He had been on his own the whole summer.

“Aw, Bud,” Sid said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Runner snorted.

“Doesn’t mean I still can’t be sorry,” Sid replied automatically. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Take care of yourself,” Runner murmured. “Are your parents anywhere nearby?”

“No,” Sid said, glancing around again. “They’re downstairs.”

Runner whispered just loud enough to be heard, “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sid whispered. “Sleep well, Bud.”

“Goodnight, Sid.” Runner pressed the “End Call” button. Instantly, Runner missed him. He plugged in the phone on his desk and turned off his lamp. He went to bed and tried to sleep off his worries.

 _Sid will be fine. He’ll be okay_ , he thought to himself vehemently.

It didn’t reassure him.

 

“Runner,” Lucky called over his shoulder. “Look at this giant mushroom!”

“Why, whenever you find something, does it always come down to something related to drugs?” Runner tried not to trip over himself. He felt like a raggled soccer mom trying to keep her seven children from swallowing poison in a toxic waste plant. However, instead of having seven separate children, it was like all their bad decision-making combined into one Bob Leckie.

“It’s a turkey tail mushroom, Runner. I think if I ate one, I would actually die,” Lucky scoffed. “I know my drugs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Runner retorted. “You’re a real-deal drug dealer.”

“Hell yeah. There was a dude at my friend’s school that got caught with five pounds of weed in his car,” Lucky laughed.

“Five _pounds_?” Runner stumbled a bit. That was a literal fuckton of weed.

“And a smattering of molly, cocaine, LSD, and shrooms. He was driving behind a cop with his brights on. He got pulled over, and the rest is history.” Lucky grinned smugly. Runner couldn’t believe it.

“No fucking way.” Lucky bit his lip mischievously and nodded. “Lucky, you’ve gotta be making this up.”

“I’m not,” Lucky sang. He spun on his heel in dead leaves. “I couldn’t make this up. He was in deep shit.”

“Yeah, no shit. You don’t get caught with an infant-sized quantity of pot and survive.” Runner pushed some branches away from his face as he followed behind Lucky. It was easier to tell where they were going since they just followed the landmarks. It didn’t take long to get to the stream. It was harder to leap over it with their heavy backpacks. Runner was in charge of food and Lucky carried the rest of the essentials, which was mostly blankets and sunscreen.

“How much farther?” Lucky asked. He looked worn out, and Runner shoved at his shoulder.

“Tired already, Luck?” Just to prove his point, Runner started jogging a bit. Lucky made a loud noise of complaint.

“How do you not look totally stupid running with a backpack? That’s just unfair,” he grumbled. He clambered over a log and pouted the rest of the way to the edge of the meadow. Runner didn’t mind the silence. The forest felt less dangerous. He didn’t feel like he was being watched.

The birds chirped in normal intervals and were scattered amongst the tree branches like birds should be. It was just a normal summer day: hot, a little humid, somewhat windy, and the air smelled fresh. Runner was thankful that it was normal. He might have hated normality in any other sense, but nature should just be _normal_.

“Look, there it is,” Runner pointed at the tree. Suddenly, Runner felt like he was being watched again, but in a way that was much less life-threatening. Still uncomfortable, but something he could stomach.

“Any weird shit?” Lucky asked gracelessly. Runner shook his head and stepped out onto the meadow. The sun was hot on their heads and backs, and they could feel beads of sweat drip down their spines. The dry grass crackled underfoot as they made their way to the umbrage of the tree. The tree was calm. Runner doubted himself for a second.

“We did just come here four days ago, right?” He asked Lucky. Lucky shrugged.

“Maybe it was an off day?” Runner tipped his head back and watched the tree’s boughs in the wind. They moved in a powerful warrior’s dance, like a victorious fighter waving their body over their dead opponent.

“Maybe,” he muttered doubtingly. Ever oblivious, Lucky settled down at the base of the trunk.

“Well,” Lucky said, “let’s eat.”

They unpacked their food and blankets. It was a modest assortment. Just some sandwiches, waters, and chips. Runner laid back against the tree trunk. He was reluctant at first, but nothing was out of the ordinary, so he felt it was safe to do so. Lucky sat down facing him and pulled out packages of Chips Ahoy and Funyuns. Runner grimaced.

“You brought two of my least favorite junk food items. Really?” Runner watched in horror and Lucky opened the Funyuns and began shoving them into his mouth.

“What?” Lucky laughed around the food in his mouth. “You don’t like Funyuns?”

“You are the worst; you know why I don’t,” Runner complained. He had once eaten too many Funyuns and had gotten so sick from them that he could barely smell them without feeling nauseous. It may or may not have had to do with a dare that Lucky may or may not have made him do. It was definitely revenge that Lucky brought them because Runner forbade weed.

“You don’t like Chips Ahoy. How am _I_ the worst?” Lucky picked out his sandwich and proceeded to take an enormous bite that desecrated half the arrangement.

“Uh, you unhinge your jaw like a goddamned snake, so, I think I’m at least more human than you are. Therefore, better,” Runner said, horrified. He held his sandwich gingerly between his fingers.

“All the better to suck dick with,” Lucky replied. Runner barked out a surprised laugh.

“Shit, that was a good one,” he snorted. Lucky bowed dramatically.

“Speaking of sucking dicks, I came out to my parents,” Lucky said. He looked out towards the tree-line and kneaded the blanket with his free hand. Runner sat up straight and almost dropped his sandwich, jolted by the sudden change in conversational direction.

“How did that go?”

“Went as well as I could expect. They didn’t kick me out of the house,” Lucky laughed sardonically, “but they think I’m just doing it for attention. Mostly my mom. Dad didn’t know what was going on, as usual.”

“Fuck,” Runner murmured. “How’re you holding up?”

“Not great, but I just decided to get it over with.” Lucky shrugged and continued eating. Runner leaned back against the tree and sighed.

“If you need anything, my house is always open. And empty.” Lucky smiled at him gratefully.

“You’re lucky, man,” he said. Runner cocked his head, confused.

“You don’t have to put up with them. They’re never even there. Just wait to come out until you’re out from under their noses,” Lucky explained. Runner nodded but said nothing else.

He didn’t have the heart to tell Lucky that he could run away and his parents wouldn’t even notice. He could be gone a month or just never come back ever again, and they wouldn’t think twice. Besides Lucky, the only person in Elderwood who would ask after him would be Chesty, and that would only be about shifts.

Runner put his sandwich back in its tupperware. He lost his appetite.

A few hours later, the sun began to descend. Just in case they got lost, Lucky and Runner agreed to go back to Runner’s house early. As they were packing up, Lucky grabbed empty tupperware and filled it with their leftovers.

“What are you doing?” Runner asked. Lucky gave him a mischievous grin.

“Let’s leave our leftovers for the cryptids.” Runner put his head in his hands and rubbed his face.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m not leaving _this_ out here,” Runner went into Mom Stance and put his hands on his hips. “No, Lucky.”

“Who knows? Maybe Mothman likes Funyuns.” Lucky put the tupperware in a nook at the base of the tree.

“I still can’t fucking believe you like Funyuns, of all junk food,” Runner said. He zipped up his backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder.

“I’ll come back for it tomorrow. I have to run in the morning, so I can just run out here,” Runner said. Lucky gave him a double thumbs-up and began to make his way to the treeline.

Runner crouched and touched the tupperware. He wasn’t that superstitious, but it never hurt to be careful.

“Sorry,” he began, “I know you probably didn’t want us to come back, but we did anyway because my friend would’ve come here by himself, and I don’t want him to die in the middle of the woods alone.

“You don’t have to eat this food—do you even eat?—so no pressure. Maybe you absorb it? I don’t know. Uh, enjoy it, I guess? Funyuns are super fucking gross, so just ignore those. Uh, goodnight…tree?”

“Runner! Let’s go!” Lucky yelled. He was halfway across the meadow, waving his arms over his head.

Runner rose and began walking after him. Suddenly, the wind picked up and began howling. Runner tripped and fell from the force of the wind. The tree began twisting violently and emitted booming creaks.

“Shit!” Runner screamed. He scrambled to his feet and took off to catch up to Lucky, who had also started running. The two bolted out of the meadow and towards the stream. The wind howled at their backs as they stumbled hurriedly over bushes and fallen trees. They leapt over the stream, and then all was silent. Hands on their knees, they panted to catch their breaths.

“Holy fuck,” Lucky gasped. “What did you do?”

“I literally just talked to it, apologized for coming back, and told it ‘goodnight.’” Runner wheezed. He felt lightheaded and his wrist ached from the manner in which he fell.

“Okay, and you say _I’m_ an idiot,” Lucky retorted. He noticed that Runner was rubbing his wrist and softened. “Hey, is your arm alright?”

“Yeah, I probably just bruised it when I fell. No biggie.” Runner winced when he squeezed it. He was praying that it wasn’t a sprain. Lucky had an unsure look on his face, but dropped it.

“Well, let’s head back to the Conley household. I have to get to work in a few hours.”

“When did you get a job with night shifts?” Runner asked. He thought for a moment and then stared at Lucky with a deadpan expression. At the same time, they both said,

“Family Dinners.”

“I picked up some extra shifts at the café in town. You know Tracy? She got me the job.” Lucky stretched his arms over his head as he walked.

“Yeah, of course I know Tracy. We were in the same Law class senior year,” Runner replied. He kicked at a wayward branch.

“Do you think she and Ronnie Gibson are still dating?” Lucky wondered. Runner thought about it and shook his head.

“Nah,” he said. “She was going to go to Harvard Law. No one was getting in her way.”

Lucky winced. “Yikes. That’s a little harsh.”

“You didn’t know Tracy that well then,” Runner laughed. “She was a bit of a hard-ass. I did a school project with her and she almost stabbed me with a pencil for spelling ‘inconsiderate’ wrong.”

“Maybe it’s better that Gib is free from her then,” Lucky concluded. He dashed ahead once he saw the back of the house. Runner followed him inside to see him drinking from the orange juice container.

“Luck, really?” Lucky looked at him with a mouthful of orange juice and made a gesture that easily translated to “let me live my best life.” Runner shook his head, grabbed a glass, and filled it with tap water.

“I need my juice,” Lucky teased once he swallowed. He shook the carton and yelped as some juice splashed on the floor. Runner sighed.

“Please, clean that up,” he said. Lucky would never live up to his nickname at this rate.

“Alright, alright,” Lucky acquiesced. He grabbed some paper towels and wiped the floor. Runner sat at the counter and sipped at a glass of water. He dug out one of the wrist braces he kept in the miscellaneous drawer and slid it over his swollen forearm.

Runner was scrolling through Facebook on his phone when he noticed Lucky had been tagged in a few photos. It was one of the nature reservations a few towns over. In one of them was Lucky with a big grin on his face, another was a selfie with him and a blond guy. They were uploaded that morning, and the caption read, “morning hikes” with a few tree emojis.

Runner frowned. Lucky had told him he had a morning shift. He even complained about it to Runner. Runner knew now that Lucky _lied_ to him, and that was something new. He wasn’t used to being lied to by his best friend. His parents? Sure.

But Lucky? Lucky wasn’t supposed to lie. That’s not how their friendship worked.

 _Why would he lie to me about_ this _?_ Runner thought. He was frustrated and betrayed, but he swallowed it down. There was no use confronting Lucky now. Maybe Runner was just making things up, and it was just a big misunderstanding.

But the evidence was there, right on his phone. Some middle-aged woman commented, saying “great to see you boys this morning,” and the timestamp was at _11:17 AM_.

“Are you sure you want to go by yourself to the tree tomorrow?” Lucky looked up at him with an expression Runner couldn’t place, which was weird because he knew Lucky better than himself most times.

“Yeah,” Runner shrugged. He felt defensive. “Why? Is it weird that I want to go back?”

Lucky shook his head and looked down. “Nah, but you were the one who was so freaked out about the tree…”

“I’m not leaving plastic tupperware— _my_ tupperware—out in the middle of the woods.” Agitated, Runner tapped his fingers on the edge of the glass. “Besides, I might as well face my ‘fear.’”

Lucky’s face creased with a disbelieving frown. “Sure.”

“Don’t you have work?” Runner cocked an eyebrow at him. Lucky checked his phone, swore, and threw the orange-soaked paper towels in the trash under the sink. He grabbed his key, pocketed his phone, said a brief goodbye to Runner, and booked it out the garage door to his car.

“What a whirlwind,” Runner muttered after him. There was an uncomfortable lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow.

 

Early the next morning, before the sun had properly risen, Runner set off with a drawstring bag with waters, sunscreen, bug spray, and other outdoor essentials. He used his flashlight to navigate where the trees were thickest, but otherwise had no problem walking through the deep blue of the morning. The leaf litter squished underneath his boots as he trekked over the same fallen logs as yesterday. It felt different without Lucky plodding along beside him. It was lonelier, but Runner noticed that the forest buzzed around him differently. The birds went about their normal bird business, but their eyes followed him. The wind whistled softly through the canopy in a way that was soothing rather than warningly. Runner was careful to not disturb the forest as much as he could afford, just in case he set off the wind again. There was another copse of trees that had folded in on itself, and Runner ran his fingers down to where one of the trunks of the tree had split.

“So weird,” he whispered. Even if Runner was much more comfortable staying in the comforts of indoors, nature had been important to him. His best memories with his parents involved the trips to North Conway and Jackson in New Hampshire. That was when he was around 6, but he cherished what he remembered closely. There were a few hiking trips on a ski mountain in the summer. He remembered seeing a herd of deer, and his father took some pictures of them that Runner still kept in his desk drawer.

Runner left the copse and continued past the rock pile towards the stream. He could see the edge of the meadow in the distance. The stream bubbled as it had the past two times he had been forced to cross it. The sun had just started peaking over the tops of the trees as he stepped onto the golden grass. The whole meadow illuminated. Due to the past few days’ circumstances, Runner had a doubt that that was a coincidence.

He made his way hesitantly towards the tree. It swayed just as unassumingly as yesterday, but there was no way Runner was taking any of this crazy shit for granted. The breeze was gentle, so Runner took that as a good sign. He took a deep breath and went straight to the base of the tree.

“Holy shit.” His heart skipped a beat. The tupperware was empty. That wasn’t totally unexpected, because animals would’ve smelled the food and come eaten it. What was alarming was that the lid was back _on_ the tupperware. That was freaky.

With twitching hands, he took the tupperware from the base of the tree. It was clean. There was no hint of food inside it. Runner took in a shaky breath and backed slowly away from the roots. Without really thinking about it, he ran as fast as he could across the meadow away from the tree. He trained for long-distance, but, in that moment, he could’ve had a shot of being the top sprinter for his team. He nearly slipped into the small divots and pits between bunches of thick grass, but made it safely behind the tree-line. He didn’t stop until he couldn’t see the meadow anymore. His hands were on his knees and his chest heaved with panting breaths. The woods were quiet after the ruckus he made, and he took the chance to look around. The trees were unfamiliar; he must have gone the wrong way. He spun around and tried to find the stream, but there were no sounds of bubbling water, nor any rock piles, or fallen copses of trees.

“Shit,” Runner cursed. He was lost. With a deep sigh, he tried to trek back to the edge of the meadow, but he couldn’t even remember which way he had come from. Picking a direction, he just kept walking and hoped for the best. As he walked, he stuck the empty tupperware in the drawstring bag and replaced it with a water bottle.

He checked his phone and saw it was on _13%_ . _Shit again_ , he thought bitterly. It had been forty minutes since he left his house. At least he was in the shade of the trees; the back of his shirt was damp with sweat from running. The heat of the sun was slowly edging down to the forest floor, and cicadas started to buzz from the canopy. Runner clambered over another copse that had fallen down, but this one was different. It was a large oak tree, and its bark tore away easily. Runner dug his fingernails into the bark and peeled it back. Underneath was rotted with white fungus. Some of it got on his fingers and Runner wiped the offending stuff on his jeans.

“What the hell,” he muttered. “Why does the gross shit always happen to me?”

The woods eventually thinned out to a clearing with a vernal pool. It could almost count as a swamp for how large the pool was. Runner’s nose wrinkled. It certainly smelled like a swamp; the acidic stench made him want to gag. He checked his phone again. _4%_ and it had been almost an hour and a half since he had left his house. Runner was bewildered; it didn’t feel like it had been that long. He must’ve lost track of how long he had been walking.

Not knowing what else to do, and feeling pretty worn out, he sat on a rock by the pool. There were tadpoles merrily wriggling their way from one side to another. Bullfrogs croaked and growled from their hiding places. Runner could see the tracks of some predator that had no doubt come to eat some of the tadpoles. He tilted his head and thought they could belong to a fox.

The longer he sat, the lonelier he felt. Somewhere, Lucky was probably hanging out with Bill. It left a sour taste in his mouth. He had no right to be angry about it, but maybe he did. After all, Lucky was hiding Bill from him, and that didn’t sit right with Runner at all.

 _Why would he need to hide something from me?_ It didn’t make sense. They never hid who they were friends with or interested in. Did Lucky not trust Runner anymore? Was that it? The confliction rose in his throat like a ball of bile. It felt a bit like a frustrated scream, but he couldn’t open his mouth to make any sound.

He decided to see if Google Maps could help bring him back to his house, but his phone died as soon as he unlocked it. He stuck it back in his pocket dejectedly and rested his chin on his hand. The tadpoles fluttered around the edge of the pool where he was sitting.

“What a day this has turned out to be, huh?” He asked them. They didn’t reply, but he liked to think they would’ve helped him if they could.

He slid off the rock and let his fingers break the surface of the water. Strangely, the tadpoles swam right up to his fingers and gently nibbled at his skin. It felt comforting, and Runner didn’t care how weird that sounded. He needed some comfort, and if it was from baby frogs, so be it. They wriggled against his hand as more tadpoles travelled over to investigate. Soon, the water around him was black with little tadpoles, and Runner felt a gentle breeze breathe over the back of his neck. He was certain, and he wasn’t even that superstitious, that the forest was talking to him. It was the same softness that he felt near the bridge; something was trying to communicate with him. It sounded crazy, but it didn’t feel wrong.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the sounds of leaves crunching. On the other side of the pool, a person was walking. Their white shirt stood out against the greens and russets of live and dead leaves. Runner stood up quickly and shook the water droplets off his hand.

“Hey,” he called. The person startled and whipped around to face him. Their eyes widened as Runner jogged over. Runner had to tilt his head back a bit to look in the stranger’s face.

“Do you know how to get back to a meadow with a large tree? I know this sounds so weird, but I’m really lost. Or if you know how to get back to town.” Runner rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. He tried not to grimace when he felt the sweat slick his palm.

“Uh,” the person replied. Runner noticed they weren’t wearing shoes. The person looked down at their bare feet and shuffled back a step.

“I know the way back to the tree,” they mumbled. Runner realized he probably sounded like an axe murderer. It wasn’t proper “help me” etiquette to run up to someone and ask for help without even offering his name.

“My name is Wilbur, but you can call me Runner. I live in Elderwood, but I haven’t been this far into the preserve since I was a kid. It’s a lot different than it used to be, and I got lost,” he rambled. The person perked up a bit at him mentioning he lived nearby. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

“I’m Lew,” they replied. “You know these woods?”

“A bit, but like I said, I haven’t been in here for years,” Runner laughed awkwardly. Lew looked a bit awkward as well, but began to walk in the opposite direction of where they were originally heading.

“The meadow is this way,” Lew said. They gestured lightly ahead of themselves.

“Cool,” Runner replied. He followed Lew for a bit before asking, “This might sound weird, but what pronouns do you use?”

“What?” Lew startled again. Runner took note of their jumpiness. Most axe murderers weren’t jumpy.

“Do you use him/his, she/her, they/them, xe/xem, etc.? I use him/his. I don’t know, I just like making sure I’m not misgendering anybody, you know?” Runner fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Of all the times to be conscientious, being alone in the woods with a complete stranger (who was _barefoot_ and still had a slight possibility of being an _axe murderer_ ) was not the best of times. Leave it to Runner to blab his mouth.

“I am called he, I believe?” Lew replied hesitantly. “I’m not sure what you mean, exactly. English wasn’t my first language.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Runner replied as he made note of Lew’s pronouns. Even if he wasn’t an active participant in any LGBT+ clubs at school, he tried his best to attend some of their programs. The pronoun one was pretty good, and it felt safe to ask about pronouns when it was just one-on-one. “What was your first language?”

“Greek.” Lew, who seemed relieved at the change in conversation, held some branches back for Runner to safely walk under. “I know many languages.”

“Are you a polyglot? That’s awesome! I mean, not if people constantly try to get you to say stuff in other languages; I have some friends who had that problem growing up. The awesome part is being able to communicate with different people. I tried to learn Italian in high school, but I’m not too good at languages.” Runner did the same for Lew when they reached another thicket. He made sure to not snap any branches with his fingers. Lew stared at his hand for a few odd seconds before continuing.

“No one really asks me to speak in other languages. I keep to myself,” he replied. Runner wondered how tough his feet were; he was stepping on thorn bushes. Runner avoided them, even though he was wearing boots.

“Are you a classified hermit, then?” Runner teased. Lew gave him a bewildered look; his brows creased and his eyes widened. His lips turned down into an endearing pout.

“Like… the crab?” Runner poorly stifled a laugh. Lew looked a bit affronted.

“No,” Runner giggled. “Like the people who live alone because they don’t like other people.”

Lew’s ears were bright red. “I guess I am, but I don’t mind people.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Runner replied. “I don’t know if I could live away from people forever, but I can totally respect the appeal.”

Lew nodded. They continued walking through the trees. Another copse of trees crested into their view. Runner walked over and pulled back the thin bark, but this tree had no sign of the white, slimy fungus.

“Hm,” he hummed. It looked liked a maple from the star-like leaves. Lew stood a few feet away with another perplexed expression.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t get any closer.

“There’s been a lot of trees falling down. I’m curious about why,” Runner said over his shoulder. Lew shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ve been trying to find out why, as well, but it’s probably nothing to worry about.” Lew stepped back and waited for Runner to follow. They walked on for a while in silence. Runner found it comfortable, and he watched as Lew gently brushed himself against the trees and plants. The leaves slid along his dark curls like they were caressing him. It must’ve been Runner’s imagination, but it felt like the forest was bowing out of its way for Lew. He looked completely at home. Runner softened.

“You love nature, huh,” he said. Lew looked back and nodded. His light eyes were curious.

“So do you,” Lew stated. Runner paused. No one had ever made that assumption about him before. Hell, he didn’t even make that assumption about himself.

“What makes you think that?” Runner stepped over a rotted log. He began to smell the meadow grass, which was thicker and sweeter than before.

“You’re gentle with nature.” Lew said it like it was obvious.

“Really?” Runner wondered. It sounded far-fetched, but he thought back to the tadpoles.

“Yes,” Lew nodded. “I wouldn’t lie to you about it.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest,” Lew cracked a small grin. Runner found Lew’s smile nice. It lit up his face pleasantly.

“How long have you lived here? I’ve never seen you in town,” Runner said.

“I don’t go into town; I don’t need to. I haven’t lived here too long, but long enough to know my way around. How about you?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Runner answered. Lew glanced at him.

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” he noted. Runner shrugged.

“It’s not bad here, but I feel like I’ve outgrown it.” Lew nodded understandingly.

“I know what you mean. I’ve moved around a lot in my life. It’s hard when no one place feels like home.”

“You seem pretty at-home here in the woods, though,” Runner pointed out. Lew smiled bittersweetly.

“The trees are like… family, but it doesn’t feel complete. I’m still trying to find out where the rest of me is.” He patted the trunk of a tree with his fingers.

“That’s pretty poetic. True, though. I get what you mean,” Runner said. He could smell the sweet meadow grass. It must be close. “How far ’til the meadow?”

“Not far now,” Lew replied, looking relieved at the change in subject. Runner could tell talking about Lew’s home (or lack thereof) was bringing down the mood. They slid down into a ditch. It must have once held water at one point, but the mud had long since dried into a stiff layer of earth.

Lew climbed neatly up the side of the dirt hollow and lent a hand to help Runner up. His palms were rough and calloused, but soft all the same. Runner tried not to think too hard about how long he must’ve been living out in the wilderness. They walked on and the saccharine smell got stronger. The wind was stronger, and it cooed between the branches of the canopy.

Runner stepped around some knotted roots. They twisted above the earth in a criss-crossed mass. He stumbled and almost face-planted into a tangle of thorns, but Lew caught him by the back of his shirt. He hauled Runner back on his feet by grabbing his shoulder and hip.

“Shit,” Runner gasped. “Thanks, man.”

“That you can thank me for,” Lew grinned. He glowed a bit when Runner turned to face him.

“I’m usually not such a damsel in distress,” Runner snorted. Lew copied the snort sound.

“Why did you make that sound?” Lew tilted his head.

“It’s, like, a sound you make when something is funny. Not everyone makes it, but I do,” Runner shrugged. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit. Snorting wasn’t one of his better habits. He walked a bit ahead of Lew.

“Why are you embarrassed about it?”

“It’s not the most attractive trait, you know?” Runner mumbled. He heard Lew walk faster to catch up to him.

“It doesn’t affect your attractiveness,” Lew stated bluntly. Runner was thankful he was on flat ground, otherwise he would’ve tripped again.

“Uh, what?” Runner said intelligently. He turned to look at Lew over his shoulder. Lew gave him an odd look before his face went slack in realization of what he inferred.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that!” Lew blurted. His ears were a darker red than before. “I just meant that you’re cute when you snort - μὰ τὸν κύνα! I promise, I’m not this creepy.”

“You think I’m cute?” Runner stopped in his tracks. Lew stumbled to a halt, as well.

“You’re a handsome person,” Lew nodded awkwardly. He was not looking at Runner, but towards the meadow. “And you’re kind.”

“How do you know I’m kind?” Runner asked. People often said Runner was cute, but handsome was nice to know. He didn’t want to assume that it meant Lew was attracted _to him_ , just that Runner was objectively attractive. They had just met, after all.

“I know you’re kind because of the food you left out.” Lew interrupted Runner’s mental tangent.

“You were the one who ate the food?” Runner asked incredulously. Maybe he didn’t need to be so superstitious, after all.

“Yeah.” Lew waved a hand through the air. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No worries, dude,” Runner grinned. He frowned a bit and looked sideways at Lew. “What was that weird thing you said? Was that in Greek?”

“Oh, μὰ τὸν κύνα? It’s a way of cursing.” Lew sniffed a bit when he thought about it. “I didn’t even realize I slipped out of English. Sorry about that.”

Runner shrugged. “I don’t really care. I think it’s cool, you know? Melding languages together like the ingredients of - ah, Jesus, I sound like Lucky.”

Lew regarded Runner’s face-palm with an amused curve of his lips. “What does Lucky sound like?”

Runner peered between his fingers and made an inquisitive noise. “That’s a weird way to say things, but, like, I meant that Lucky sounds all poetic and shit. He’s kind of a weird dude, but he writes like no one else.”

“No one is as good as the Homers,” Lew replied cheekily. His arms were crossed over his broad chest. Runner dropped his hand.

“Okay, I might not be a literary scholar, but wasn’t there _one_ Homer?”

“Nope!” Lew cackled. “There were a whole bunch of them. They just went under one pen name since they wanted to be, uh, dramatic.”

“Dramatic indeed,” Runner said in an overdramatic English accent. He let a laugh slip from his mouth. “I remember reading something like that, but how do you know it’s true? Are you a conspiracy theorist?”

“It’s fact, not conspiracy.”

“So, yes, you are a conspiracy theorist,” Runner snarked with a hand on his hip. Lew seemed delightedly amused by the whole thing, and Runner felt pride roll through his chest in an overturning wave. There was a pleasant pause in conversation before Lew’s whole body seemed to twitch back to life.

“Do you want to continue on?” Lew jerked his head to the meadow and began to walk towards the grass line of the meadow. Runner couldn’t help but be disappointed that their time was reaching its limit.

“So you live here by yourself, huh? Where’s your house?” Runner hopped neatly over the border of the meadow, just because he wanted to. Lew didn’t notice as he walked towards the tree with his shoulders a bit stiff. His feet brushed along the grass silently, while Runner’s crunched the gold stalks.

“I don’t have a house like you probably do,” Lew replied. He turned his head over his shoulder as Runner jogged lightly to keep up with him. “It’s nice not having to go into town or worry about the upkeep a house would need.”

“Wait,” Runner squeaked. “You live in the _woods_?”

“Isn’t that what you meant?” Lew spun around and had that perplexed expression on his face again. Runner balked a bit at his words. No wonder he was barefoot, the guy was a weirdo.

“No, I thought you lived in a house in the woods! I couldn’t imagine living in the wilderness without a roof over my head.”

“It’s not as bad as you might think. What’s that saying? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it?” Lew grinned. Runner grimaced at the idea.

“I like running water and central heating, thanks.” He wrinkled his nose at the thoughts of mosquitoes buzzing in his ears and centipedes crawling under his night shirts. Hell no was he going to ever go camping.

“Well, I can always give you a tour, if you want one. There’s a lot of places with running water around here,” Lew said. If possible, his smile stretched further.

“You mean, like, a ‘MTV welcome to my crib’ kind of tour?” Runner laughed with a wide grin.

“What?” Lew laughed back. His voice was breathy with it and his eyes were alight with the amusement that hadn’t abated since they began talking.

“You really do live under a rock, or, uh, wait, you don’t really live under a rock, do you?”

“I live in a tree,” Lew replied smartly. They had crossed about half of the meadow. Runner noted how calm and peaceful everything was. Maybe he was just going crazy. The tree wasn’t alive and hell-bent on scaring the daylights out of him. Lucky must’ve slipped him shrooms when they went out the other day.

“Okay, well, a treehouse is still a _house_.”

“Whatever,” Lew said with a small smile. Runner liked that Lew smiled a lot. It was a pleasant change from Lucky’s dour expression, even if it did make him feel guilty to think that. Then, he remembered the mysterious “Bill,” and the guilt faded.

“I have a day off in eight days,” Runner blurted before he could stop himself. “You could show me cool places in the woods and, uh, stuff.”

“You really want to?” Lew looked a bit surprised. Runner nodded, albeit meekly, and watched as Lew’s surprise melted into pleasant happiness.

“Do you want to meet here?” Lew asked. Runner couldn’t hold eye contact too long with him; his eyes were too warm and intense.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Runner murmured. “When do you want to meet?”

“Before sun-up. It will be quite a hike,” Lew replied. That would have sounded suspicious to anyone, but Runner saw the genuine excitement in Lew’s eyes and decided to trust him.

They reached the base of the tree after what Runner felt was a much longer time than the distance warranted. He reached down, grabbed the tupperware, and turned to say his good-bye to Lew, who was standing a bit awkwardly. Runner wondered if he also didn’t want to leave. Sometimes, people clicked with one conversation. Runner hadn’t clicked with many people like that. Even Lucky took a few playdates in a sandbox when they were kids before he felt comfortable enough to play “Construction Worker.” Lew had something about him that was magnetic. He drew in the world around him like a swirling galaxy, and it had taken only one meeting to come to that conclusion.

“I’ll see you bright and early in eight days,” Lew smiled.

 

 _Lucky Ducky:_ Hey, did you die or something?

 **Run Run Rudolph:** nah sorry my phone died forgot to charge it

 _Lucky Ducky:_ Oh, that sucks. Busy doing stuff?

 **Run Run Rudolph:** yah went for a run in the woods and got the tupperware

 _Lucky Ducky:_ You were out there for a while

 **Run Run Rudolph:** yeah i got lost but found my way back lol

 _Lucky Ducky:_ Getting lost in the woods would be a goddamned bitch of an unsatisfactory situation. Do you want to go out next week? I know you’ve got to take a bunch of doubles, but you’re free after that right? they only need me late afternoon next week.

 **Run Run Rudolph:** parents want me to help out with shit around the house

 _Lucky Ducky:_ Sucks. Speaking of parents: Oh my fucking GOD you would not believe the bullshit my parents put me through today. It’s a new record of badness.

 **Run Run Rudolph:** oh really?

 _Lucky Ducky:_ I had to clean out the gutters - after a NIGHT SHIFT - and then my dad asks me to clean out the car and vacuum it, which I did last week. Mom, of course, told me to just appease the man, but how many times do I have to play along with all this bullshit?! Also, Mom said that she understands that I’m just acting out and being rebellious about being bi. That really fucking hurt and now she ignores me whenever I bring it up. It’s so unfair and my parents never give a shit about me. They care more about my older siblings than they do about me. I’m always last place, and it’s really just getting to a point that I don’t even want to go home.

 **Run Run Rudolph:** that sucks man :/

 _Lucky Ducky_ : Last is always fucking least.

Runner stared at his phone and at Lucky’s last message. Part of him felt nothing, and another felt like screaming. He didn’t know why he said such an obvious lie to Lucky; his parents were never home, and they never asked Runner to do _anything_. Runner wanted Lucky to call him on such an obvious excuse, but Lucky didn’t. He just spat rants about his own miserable life, and Runner felt the bitterness weigh on his tongue like sludge.

He plugged his phone into the charger by his bed and went to bed angry. His fingers clenched his sheets and his jaw was uncomfortably tight, but he slept, even if it wasn’t soundly.

 

The auto body was hot and stifling, and it had been all the past week. Runner regretted agreeing to a stretch of eight double shifts, but he knew that Chesty needed the help. Runner’s coworker, J.P., was going on a vacation with his family. He got to escape the first heat wave of the summer in the U.S., but was probably sweltering in the fiery pits of Italy. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

The poor thermometer, stuck to the wall with zebra print duct tape, sweated itself at 85 degrees. That was just inside. Outside was so much worse, but it didn’t matter when the humidity was so high. It was to the point that Chesty was walking around shirtless. Runner had never wanted to bleach his eyes more and spent most of his shift looking straight down at the desk. The woman that touched everything (he _really_ needed to find a way to describe her) was walking on air whenever Chesty lumbered through the doors. When Runner visibly gagged at her ogling, she shot him a furious and embarrassed scowl. There wasn’t even anything wrong with her car. She came in with some bullshit excuse about being worried about the heat melting the tires.

Runner was thinking about going bare-chested himself. Since no one really cared in this town, he wiggled out of his sweaty t-shirt. The woman glared openly at him, and he shot her a challenging grimace. It was a high crime to let anyone see Chesty’s bare stomach, but the second Runner did the same, he’s the one offending the eye? Runner didn’t have a lot of self-esteem, but he was able to be honest with the fact that his body was a lot more alluring than Chesty Fuller’s boxy dad bod. Some people were into that. Runner certainly wasn’t.

“Oh, it’s getting spicy in here, isn’t it?” Mrs. Gibson trilled from the door. Runner’s head shot up when he saw her. Finally, someone who was, well not ordinary, but less odd than whatever-her-name-is.

“What’s spicy, Mrs. Gib?” Runner asked. She wagged a finger and stepped into the store. Runner was surprised to see her son trailing slowly behind her. Ronnie wasn’t one to come out of the house often. He looked faded and tired; he always had faint circles under his eyes, but they were pronounced in the weak fluorescent light. His blond hair never held luster, but Runner saw how limp and unwashed it looked. Ronnie was going through something, and Runner wanted to know what. Similar nicknames aside, Runner always liked Ronnie. He was a weird kid, but was always pleasant and open to talk. Runner’s gaze slid back to Mrs. Gibson, which wasn’t difficult since she wore neon track pants and a ruffled floral blouse.

“A hot, stuffy shop and a handsome, shirtless young man in a garage? A woman might swoon,” she replied, pretending to fan her face. Ronnie’s face went scarlet.

“Mom, stop,” he murmured pleadingly. “Why do you always do this?”

“Oh, Ronnie, you’re so sensitive.” Mrs. Gibson patted her son’s cheek. She stepped up to the counter and tapped her newly-manicured nails together. They were a purple and orange gradient. “Where’s Chesty this lovely, hot afternoon?”

Runner gestured his head towards the garage door. “He’s out working. Heads up: he’s not wearing a shirt and I’m pretty sure he forgot deodorant today.”

“I knew I should’ve brought the gas mask today,” she clucked. She turned to Ronnie, who was desperately trying to look invisible. “I told you we shouldn’t have left it at home!”

“Can we please just get this over with so we can leave?” Ronnie looked miserable, and Runner decided to take pity on him.

“I’m sure Chesty wouldn’t mind you going out to the garage. I think he’s hoping he can work on your car again. He does love the oldies,” Runner said. He put on his prize-winning smile and batted his eyelashes. Mrs. Gibson tittered at him and scooted through the door. She was a sweet lady, if not a bit on the fritz. Runner turned to Ronnie, who stepped up the counter, leaned his elbows against it and let out a defeated sigh.

“You good, dude?” Runner quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Ronnie answered, “she’s just… always _like that_. I forget how embarrassing she is in public.”

“She’s not that bad,” Runner laughed lightly. “She’s pretty funny when she gets going on her latest obsession.”

“She always goes on and on about the magic in the woods. I swear,” Ronnie groaned and put his head in his arms, “I’m going to have to put her in a home sooner rather than later.”

“You think?” Mrs. Gibson was too much of a fixture in Elderwood, even if she lived a town over. Not seeing her darting around the grocery store or waltzing down the street would empty what little life this town had left.

“I couldn’t do it. I know, if it came down to it, I wouldn’t do that to my mother. It’s been hard, though. Hell, she has me almost believing the things she’s saying.” Ronnie’s laugh was twinged bitter.

“What’s she saying that’s got you so worried?” Runner asked. Ronnie was always a bit off, but he looked off in a different way.

“Just stuff about the trees and changing winds, but only at night. She sleepwalks and scares the shit out of me. She starts yelling about it and wakes the neighbors every now and then. I think it’s getting worse, but I have no idea what’s _wrong_.” Ronnie gulped and his large eyes were frantic. “I don’t know what to do, Wilbur.”

Runner placed a hand on Ronnie’s arm. He looked deep into Ronnie’s spooked eyes. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“No, she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. That’s the scariest part.” Ronnie’s lips trembled. “What if I’m making it up, and I’m the one sleepwalking?”

“Shit,” Runner breathed. “Dude, I don’t know what to say, but if you need anything, we’re friends on Facebook. Send me a message if you want someone to talk to, okay?”

“Thanks,” Ronnie stuttered. He clenched his fingers around his arms. “I just want it to go away, you know?”

“I know what you mean.” Runner opened up another file. “I have to get back to work, but best of luck.”

“Thanks, Wilbur. See you around,” Ronnie said. He walked to the garage and snuck through the door. Runner hoped that Mrs. Gibson would be alright. She had grown on him over the years.

 

 **Run Run Rudolph** : wanna see a movie on sat?

 _Lucky Ducky_ : Sorry, going to NYC for the weekend to go to museums.

 **Run Run Rudolph** : i thought u hated museums lmao whos dragging u there?

 _Lucky Ducky_ : I don’t /hate/ museums, I just don’t usually go. Can’t a man have a change of heart?

 **Run Run Rudolph** : u r as much of a stubborn bastard as i am lmao changes of heart dont come easily to people like us

 _Lucky Ducky_ : You’d be surprised.

 **Run Run Rudolph** : oh. ok then lol

 

It was finally Runner’s day off, and the sun was long from rising. A rarely-used, tinny alarm blared from his phone. He swiped his arm down at it and growled at the early time: _4:30 AM_. He rolled out of bed and scrambled to get ready. He pulled on jeans, a clean t-shirt, and one of his many flannels. He almost slipped down the stairs in his socks as he made his way to his dark kitchen to prepare some food. Runner’s joints creaked as he crammed food and waters into his pack. He decided to forego the sunscreen this time. It felt way too early to be awake, and the ache in Runner’s eyes was certainly strong evidence of that. His bed lay un-made with crumpled sheets. The desk chair was standing askew from its normal place, and yesterday’s clothes were scattered like puddles across the floor. Time felt out of place and underwater. Runner’s head swum towards a surface that didn’t exist as he stumbled out the back door.

The sky was bluer than gray, and it dyed the world below it indigo. The air was ripe with the sounds of the soft, drowsy cheepings of birds. The ground pressed underneath Runner’s shoes. It was peaceful, and for that Runner was worried. When he got near the stream, the woods quieted. A tight thread of tension stretched between Runner and the rest of the forest. The trees didn’t move. The plants didn’t rustle. Everything seemed to hold its breath. Runner became hyper aware of every step he took towards the meadow, cringing as twigs crunched under his feet. Maybe that day with Lew had been a fluke. It wasn’t really all in Runner’s head and the forest was out to get him. With every pace he took towards the meadow, Runner felt more and more like the dumb white kid who got brutally murdered in the horror movie. Which horror movie, he couldn’t place, but he hoped it wouldn’t be a B-film. He didn’t think the highest of himself, but he at least deserved something that had good effects and had a great run in the theaters.

The meadow was blue, too. The pale stalks of grass soaked in the melancholy tang of the pre-dawn sky through a straw. As eerie as it was, Runner felt instantly comforted by the dark outline of Lew in the distance. He was still too self-conscious to jog over, even if he felt eager enough to prance over like an excited dog. Sue him, he made plans with a weird guy in the woods and they were going to hang out and explore. Runner hadn’t been this excited for plans since Sid had taken him to a carnival once for spring break.

“Good morning,” Runner called once he was within shouting distance. He could see the flash of Lew’s white teeth when he smiled, and Runner couldn’t help but let a grin overtake his face. Even the early drudges of morning couldn’t dull Lew’s infectiously positive mood.

“Glad to see you’re on time. Thought you might have gotten lost,” Lew grinned. Runner scoffed and gently pushed at his shoulder playfully. Lew was surprised at the gesture and stiffened.

“Shall we?” Lew jerked his head towards the woods.

“We shall,” Runner replied with a small smile. He followed behind Lew as they walked towards another part of the woods Runner was unfamiliar with, but most of the woods were unfamiliar to him so he probably should’ve been more specific.

“Where are we going? Taking me to your treehouse?”

Lew laughed and shook his head. Runner couldn’t see his face, but he had a feeling he was grinning.

“It’s a surprise, unless you want me to spoil it?” His blue eyes were sparks when he tilted his head enough to catch Runner’s gaze. His lips lay crooked in a teasing lilt, but there was something about his posture that made Runner hesitant to pry. It was the tension in his shoulders that whispered a warning.

“I’m fine with surprises,” Runner shrugged. If following his instincts had done anything, it had helped him not get possibly killed by a furious tree. Lew’s shoulders twitched back into relaxation, and they were back to ease.

“Are you going to follow behind me the whole way? It might be hard to talk.” Lew paused in his stride to let Runner catch up.

“I figured you were more the type that liked companionable silence,” Runner said. He stumbled into Lew’s side as a wayward cluster of shrubs snagged his shoes.

“Clumsy,” Lew snarked gently. He righted Runner’s balance with a hand on his elbow. “I don’t get company a lot and I like talking, so, no, I am not the quiet type.”

“A chatty hermit,” Runner teased. “Now, I’ve seen it all.”

“I’m not actually a hermit,” Lew complained. He huffed at Runner’s unconvinced smile. “Do you want me to show you the woods? Maybe not because you’ve apparently ‘seen it all.’”

“You don’t mean that,” Runner returned with another nudge on Lew’s shoulder. It surprised Runner by his conviction to that statement. He didn’t know Lew well enough to make those those kinds of statements truthfully, or so he thought.

“I guess I didn’t.” Lew looked just as surprised as Runner did. His eyebrows rose a bit as his eyes widened. If there was one thing Runner was good at, besides being a sarcastic little shit, it was effectively deflecting.

“Are we going to just one place, or is this a multi-stop tour? Am I allowed to ask that?”

Lew laughed as they trekked between a bundle of short pines. A large tree had been upturned, but it looked like it had fallen long before the summer. Lew vaulted over the trunk’s girth with ease. Runner scrabbled over it like a deranged cat and promptly fell on the other side.

“You really are clumsy,” Lew commented. Runner wiped off the soil that clung to his forearms. He had rolled up the sleeves to his flannel already, but he brushed his hands down his sides to make sure it didn’t get dirty.

“I’m better when I don’t have to get up so early,” Runner huffed. Lew offered his hand and pulled Runner back to his feet.

“You were lying when you said you weren’t a damsel in distress. I don’t have to worry about a dragon next, do I?” Runner gawked at Lew and couldn’t hide his grin. He didn’t remember saying that, but it definitely sounded like something he would say.

“You’re an asshole, dude,” Runner laughed. Lew ruffled a hand in Runner’s hair.

“Your knight in shining armor is more like it,” Lew sassed. They both fell into giggles and more friendly nudges.

They walked on and golden sunlight crept its way between the canopy again. It dappled its way across the leafy earth and across Lew and Runner’s backs. Runner noticed that no copses of trees lay to their sides on this side of the meadow. His current hypothesis was something with the white fungus, but he tried not to think too hard about it.

Lew ducked underneath a low branch and they paused for a bit in a clearing. There was a circle of toadstools in the middle, and Runner took a small step back. Lew saw it and gave him a curious glance.

“I read that those things are body dumps or something,” he murmured to Lew nervously. Lew looked at him skeptically.

“They’re called ‘faerie rings,’ and as long as we don’t cross it, we’ll be fine.” Lew turned and skirted the outside of the clearing easily. Runner was still processing what Lew said. He thought of Mrs. Gibson and the “magic” in the woods. It set his nerves on end. Lew was already beginning to disappear into the thick forest ahead, and Runner hobbled around the edge of the ring as quickly as he could.

“You believe in faeries?” Runner asked incredulously once he caught up.

“You don’t?” Lew asked in the same tone. Runner felt a bit embarrassed and shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t _not_ believe in them,” he muttered. Lew shook his head with a frown.

“But you don’t believe in them either?” Runner nodded without looking at Lew. He didn’t know why admitting that felt wrong, and it looked like Lew had taken offense.

“I just don’t know enough about them, I guess? It’s not exactly a topic I focus a lot of my time on.” He saw Lew sigh and run an agitated hand through his dark curls. He didn’t say anything and continued walking. The easy air between them trembled a bit. Runner inwardly winced and followed behind him.

There was a small path that must’ve been trodden down over time. It could have been a deer path, but with the confident stride in which Lew moved on it, Runner had a feeling it had been worn down by human feet. It struck Runner that he might be the second person to walk this path, and that Lew had been traveling through these woods by himself.

“You said that you enjoy company, but why do you live all the way out here?” Runner asked softly. He didn’t want to startle Lew, and he was still nervous about further disrupting their currently uneven tempo.

“I don’t live completely alone. I have others that visit me,” Lew replied flatly. Runner rubbed his fingers against each other.

“You just seem you shouldn’t be alone,” Runner mumbled. “And, uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like a jerk back there.”

“What?” Lew stopped and stared at him with an alarmed. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t know,” Runner replied. He looked at Lew and fiddled with his hands. “I feel like I made you pissed at me, and I don’t want to lose a friend I just made, you know?”

“You think I’m your friend?” Lew barked. Runner paled and opened his mouth to save himself.

“Uh, I mean, um…” He floundered for something, _anything_ , to say. Surprisingly, Lew’s dour expression melted into one of pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was ‘pissed’ at you. It’s just different for me when people don’t believe in what you call ‘mythical’ creatures. Hope that’s clear. It’s a sensitive topic.” Lew rested his hand on Runner’s shoulder, his thumb just touched the skin of Runner’s neck. His face was soft and his smile was gentle. “It’s been a while since I’ve met someone I could consider a friend. I wouldn’t mind it if we called each other ‘friend.’”

“Really?” Runner breathed. Lew grinned at him.

“Really.” He took his hand off Runner’s shoulder and placed it between his shoulder blades. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

The light was filling the dew on the leaves, raining golden drops onto their heads. Runner didn’t remember if it rained or not last night, but he enjoyed how the leftover water pattered into his hair. He also couldn’t help but enjoy how Lew’s arm eventually draped itself over his shoulder. Lew’s lips were moving and Runner suddenly realized he was talking.

“So the place I’m taking you to is pretty cool. There isn’t a history of glaciers in this area, but there are really large boulders. No one knows how they got there, but, then again, not many people have looked. It’s a great place to just sit and relax. It’s been smoothed over by the rain and wind, so it’s comfortable. And… I’m not boring you with this, am I?”

Runner shook his head immediately. “No, you’re not. It sounds really cool.”

“You’re excited to see it?” Lew perked up and practically sparkled.

“Yeah, I am,” Runner answered honestly. Lew’s enthusiasm rubbed off on Runner and he couldn’t help grinning back at him. The beaten path was coming to an end and opened up to a clearing that was half-encircled by a smooth boulder, just like Lew had said. Not far off, a creek trickled its existence, and, above, the trees swirled towards the open sky. Runner had to pause to breathe it all in, letting his eyes close. He sucked in a breath of fresh air and opened his eyes to find Lew peering at him. His face was so close to Runner’s that he could see his individual eyelashes.

“What are you doing?” Lew asked with a curious smile. He removed his arm from around Runner’s shoulders.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to feel the world around you. Ever tried it?” Runner walked past him and climbed shakily up the slopier side of the boulder. He peeked over his shoulder to see Lew with an indescribable look on his face.

“I brought some food, if you want any.” Runner settled into a nice spot that was just shaded enough. Sunlight slid through the trees to hit his back, but the warmth wasn’t overbearing yet. He had a nice view of the clearing. In another time long before the present, he could see someone giving orders from this perch to a group of people down below. It wasn’t often Runner felt authoritative, but, from this spot, he could feel the ghosts of leadership kindle up his fingers and arms. He shook himself out of his thoughts as Lew ambled his way up the boulder and settled beside him.

“I would like food if you’re offering. Thank you,” he said, touched. Runner quirked his lips into a quick smile and passed him a veggie sandwich.

“I didn’t know what you ate, so I just assumed something vegan, if that’s okay. I mean, you live in the woods and love nature, so I thought you probably, uh, don’t eat animals.” Runner pulled out his own veggie sandwich and dug into it. He made a noise, muffled by food, and grabbed the water bottles; he had nearly forgotten to get them out. He passed one to Lew and nearly dropped it down the boulder’s face when he saw the intensely grateful look Lew was giving him. His eyes searched deep into Runner’s and it should’ve felt invasive, but it wasn’t. Runner was a rarely-opened book, and when someone did touch their fingers to his open pages, he tended to reveal very little of his content. He felt no such qualms with Lew, but that was because Lew also seemed like a scarcely-worded tome that withheld its secrets.

“I really mean it, Runner. Thank you.” Lew grabbed the bottle delicately and placed his sandwich in his lap to open it. Runner blushed and twitched his fingers around his own sandwich. He gave one of his patented shrugs before swallowing what was in his mouth.

“You’re welcome.”

They ate in companionable silence, but only because Lew just kept eating. Runner hid the Oreo packets from him for later after Lew chowed through both granola bars with gusto. He needed it more than Runner did, being out in the woods and all. Once he finished, Lew lay back against the rock and closed his eyes. The sun was climbing slowly towards the center of the sky, and its heat wasn’t lost on the both of them. Runner slid off his flannel and tied it around his waist. His white t-shirt stuck to his back and molded around his ribs with damp sweat, but Lew’s was beginning to cling to him, as well. Runner didn’t feel too self-conscious about it. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam over Lew’s relaxed body. He was splayed elegantly against the grey of the rock with flushed cheeks and tanned arms. His legs were comfortably stretched out and dipped down the easy slope of the boulder. He looked like a Renaissance painting, and the realization made Runner’s breath hitch slightly in his mouth. Runner wished he could live with the same effortless grace the Lew did, with the honest smiles and the fire in his eyes. He hadn’t felt this full of life in a long time, and Runner was going to greedily feed this friendship between himself and Lew if it meant he could finally feel like his life was worth something.

“Is this all you wanted to show me, or is there more?” Runner said quietly. Lew opened one eye and his lips curled upwards. Runner drummed his fingers on his knees. Lew wiggled his hips up the boulder and pushed himself into a sitting position, ran a hand through his hair, and sucked in a deep breath.

“Want to see a waterfall?” He asked. Runner nodded excitedly. Lew nudged at Runner’s shoulder and let his knuckles rest against the bare skin of Runner’s bicep for a brief moment.

“Then, let’s go,” Lew said. He helped Runner put away the wrappers for the food and took the pack over his own shoulders. Runner thanked him and Lew copied Runner’s shrugs and said that it was his pleasure.

They slid down the boulder and Lew took them down another beaten-down track. With food in their bellies, both were much livelier in their jostlings and words. The forest was brimming with green and gold hues; the blue had long since fallen into its slumber. It took Runner’s breath away, and he couldn’t help but run his fingers across broad-faced leaves and caress spindly branches. Lew was the same, touching the forest around him and enjoying the green.

The waterfall grumbled up ahead, and Runner walked ahead of Lew to get there first. Something about waterfalls had always mystified him. Maybe it was their power. It could have been their look, gallons and gallons of water diving into a pool below. Possibly their sound, and Runner couldn’t help but compare it to an earth-shaking roar. His legs itched him to go faster, and he turned to glance at Lew with a mischievous look.

“Race you,” he blurted. Then, he ran. He laughed loudly as Lew garbled out a noise of indignation and heard him break into a sprint. They raced towards the sounds of rolling water with panting, laughing breaths. The trees abruptly stopped and water glittered into view. The top of the waterfall was before them.

“I win,” Runner said victoriously. He laughed at Lew, who had his hands on his knees.

“You’re a little shit, aren’t you?” Lew chuckled in between breaths. He peered up at Runner with bright blue eyes.

“Sore loser?” Runner teased. He yelped and jumped out of the way when Lew swiped a hand at him.

“Don’t make me throw you in,” Lew growled, but the effect was lost with his bright smile. He grasped the end of Runner’s flannel and pulled, making Runner lose his balance. He almost landed in Lew’s lap, and the two tussled until Lew was almost straddling Runner. Lew had both of his hands on Runner’s wrists and a smug look on his face.

“Let me up, asshole,” Runner laughed. Lew’s smile softened and he released him.

“You’re still a little shit,” he replied. Runner snorted and twisted his hands in the long grasses by the water. They caught their breaths and watched as the water tumbled over the edge of the falls. It wasn’t a far drop, maybe about ten feet. The roar of it made it seem like the drop was much farther, and Runner closed his eyes and imagined if the drop was never-ending.

“What are you thinking about?” Lew asked. Runner kept his eyes closed and bit his lip around a smile.

“If you close your eyes, it sounds like the waterfall goes on forever,” he replied. Lew shifted besides him, and they were quiet for a moment.

“It does,” Lew murmured after a bit. He leaned his shoulder on Runner’s briefly. “Why didn’t you come out here for so long?”

Runner opened his eyes to see Lew staring at him again. His searching eyes waited.

“I don’t know,” Runner shrugged. He didn’t want to think too hard about how the life everyone wanted for him seemed to overpower what he really did want. That was the question that Runner had never tried to answer: what did he want? Sensing the dropping mood, Lew touched the back of his hand to Runner’s.

“Let me know if you figure it out. I’d like to hear your answer, but I’m happy you came back. I think the trees missed you.” Runner stared at their touching hands and then glanced up at Lew. Runner had seen honest faces before; he could tell if someone was lying to him or if they put their entire self on their sleeves. He had never seen someone as honest as Lew before, and it was exhilarating.

“The trees missed me, huh?” Runner replied. He leaned back on an elbow and turned his gaze back to the water. “I forgot what it was like to just… relax out here.”

“You’ve got the heat and some running water. It’s what you wanted.” Lew poked Runner in the ribs.

“I guess so,” Runner conceded. He was starting to get sleepy in the heat of the sun and the rhythmic sounds of the waterfall. “I kind of want to take a nap. It’s so nice out here.”

“You can,” Lew almost whispered. “I’m pretty wide awake.”

“I don’t want to leave you just doing nothing, though,” Runner said. He tried to rouse himself, but Lew put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Wilbur,” Lew said. “I can eat the rest of your food. I saw you hiding it in your bag. Is that okay?”

“Promise to not let bugs crawl in my hair and we got a deal,” Runner yawned. He lazily untied his flannel and rested it underneath his head.

“I’ll wake you up by sprinkling crumbs on your face,” Lew grinned. Runner made a complaining noise and closed his eyes. He thought he heard Lew mumbling to himself.

 

Runner woke up to Lew’s face lit in late afternoon light. His dark hair was backlit and made a corona of gold around his head. The rumbling of the waterfall seemed like it was muffled in Runner’s ears.

“Hey, damsel in distress,” Lew murmured. “I just killed the dragon. Want to get out of here?”

“What time is it?” Runner grumbled in response. He rubbed a fist over one eye and grabbed his flannel and shook it out drowsily.

“You slept for a few hours. It looked like you needed it,” Lew handed Runner his pack and stood. “Also, Oreos are great. Next time, you should bring more if you’re still willing to share.”

“I should bring a whole potluck dinner for you. You eat so much,” Runner mumbled. He wasn’t fully awake yet, and he had a feeling Lew was taking great joy in it.

“Come on, princess,” Lew hauled Runner up by his wrist. Runner made a whining noise in reply.

“How far to the tree?” Runner asked. He tried to tie his flannel around his hips, but his brain wasn’t computing. Lew huffed and pushed Runner’s arms out of the way. He tied it for him quickly and pushed the pack’s straps over Runner’s shoulders.

“Not far. I took us in a loop,” Lew answered. He had a hand on the back of Runner’s neck and they made their way back into the woods. The walk back seemed to pass in a blur of green, and then the meadow opened up in all of its rich gold. The wind billowed powerfully, but not menacingly. The cool wind woke Runner out of his sleepy haze and he turned to see Lew watching him.

“Do you know where to go from here?” Lew asked. He had a small smile on his lips, but it was a little sad. Runner wondered if he didn’t want their time together to end either.

“I know which way the stream is,” Runner sighed. He looked off towards where the meadow was spotted with low brush. The stream wasn’t far beyond that.

“I won’t have to guide you home, will I?” Lew teased. His hand was still on the back of Runner’s neck, and Lew squeezed him gently.

“Oh my fuck,” Runner giggled. “That was _one time_. Are you going to bring that up every time we meet?”

“Just to see you react,” Lew laughed, “yes. I also wouldn’t mind seeing your house.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Runner gave him a challenging smile.

“That sounds a bit forward, don’t you think? Especially since I don’t have a house.”

“Asshole.” Runner pushed at his shoulder. Lew released the back of his neck and pushed Runner back.

“Little shit.”

“I’m not that little,” Runner gawked indignantly. Lew just smirked at him.

“You’re smaller than I am. Comparatively, you are little.”

“I’ll have you know, I was the fifth-shortest kid in my middle school,” Runner shot back with a grin.

“Only short people remember specifics like that,” Lew replied. Runner snorted.

“Someone has to.”

“So you admit it?” Lew laughed a bit louder. Runner huffed playfully at him.

“I’m going back to my house. See you around, Lew.” He began walking backwards.

“Have a nice night! Don’t get lost!” Lew called to him. Runner replied by flipping him off with both hands.

When Runner got back to his house, he breathed a happy sigh and went to unpack in the kitchen. He saw his phone plugged in on the counter and opened Snapchat. After securing his snap streaks, including sending Sid a series of filtered, ugly selfies, he checked his messages. Lucky hadn’t sent him anything, but that wasn’t unexpected; he would say something when he wanted to. Facebook had a few notifications for him. It was mostly just updates from people he went to highschool with. His eyes flitted up to the search bar and he decided to see if Lew had social media. After five minutes of clicking through the wrong profiles, he conceded defeat. It made sense. If you lived in the woods, odds were you didn’t keep up to date with technology. Runner closed Facebook and leaned back on the counter.

Today was one of the best days he had had in awhile. Good days sat in your stomach like a hot meal and ran their goodness around your bones. By morning, the memories wouldn’t be half as sweet, so Runner let himself revel in the warmth for a while. The light slipped further behind the trees and his stomach gurgled with hunger. He heated up some dinner and watched it spin around in his microwave. His mind was focused on how Lew looked in the sunlight, so he didn’t notice his phone screen light up. The soft buzz it gave caught his attention. He picked it up and opened the notification and smiled when he saw it was a text from Sid.

42 Wallaby Way : sorry i haven’t messaged in a while Bud! been busy. are you free to call?

Runner walked upstairs with the bowl of leftover lentil soup and sat on his bed. With a spoon in his mouth, he replied.

 **Runner** : yeah im ready when u r

42 Wallaby Way : ok

The phone lit up with an incoming call and Runner answered it.

“Hey, man,” Runner greeted. “What’s up?”

“Not too much, but I talked to Eugene more about Snafu. I think my hunch was correct.”

Runner frowned. “What’s Snafu? Isn’t that a military term or something?”

“It’s the name of the guy Eugene’s friends with. You know, the _person_.” Ah, now that was more familiar.

“I hope that’s a nickname and not the name his parents gave him.” Sid laughed on the other side of the line. It sounded like bells.

“He hates his actual name, so he just goes by Snafu. I don’t know much other than what Gene tells me, but he seems like an alright guy. A little prickly, but alright.”

“Prickly, huh?” Runner mused. “Well, it’s good that Eugene is making friends other than you and Jay. So by ‘hunch,’ I assume you mean that Eugene isn’t as straight as you thought?”

“That would be correct,” Sid sighed. “I’m still scared to tell him. Does that make me a bad friend?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Runner assured him.

“But what if he thinks I’ve been lying to him and that I’m ashamed of telling him or something?”

“Everyone is different with coming out, Sid. Wait until you’re ready for it, alright? If that means a long time, then it means a long time. I still stand by the belief that Eugene would support you and give you a giant hug, but that’s just me.” Runner tapped his fingers rhythmically.

“Can we talk about something else? Sorry, I don’t want to hog the conversation talking about my problems,” Sid pleaded. Runner relented. It was another one of those moments where Sid didn’t need to be pushed.

“You can talk to me about stuff, Sid. I’m always here to listen.”

“I know,” Sid whispered. “Same goes here. By the way, what did you do today? You don’t answer my snaps unless you’re busy. Did you have work?”

“Nah,” Runner sighed. “I actually went on a hike with a guy.”

Sid made a knowing sound. “A ‘guy,’ huh?”

“Yeah.” Runner couldn’t stop the blush that burned his cheeks. “It was actually really nice and we are just friends, so no getting ideas.”

“How’d you meet him?” Sid’s voice was playful and sweet.

“I got lost in the woods and he helped me find my way back. I know that sounds _so_ sketchy, but he’s really nice and friendly. We met up and he showed me some cool places and chilled.”

“I can’t believe you nature walked and chilled,” Sid giggled.

“Sidney Phillips, the _audacity_ ,” Runner squawked. Sid laughed harder.

“Don’t act like you’re such a virgin, Bud. I know the truth.” Runner blushed again. They both knew that truth intimately.

“Hush, you cute jerk,” Runner retorted. Sid let out another peal of giggles.

“Tell me more about him. What did you do? I need details.”

Runner regaled the whole day to Sid while eating his dinner. By the time he finished, they were both yawning and agreed to turn in for the night. Runner pressed “End Call” and got up to wash his face and change into sleep clothes. He let the warmth of the day enclose over his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. Runner couldn’t help but smile at the way Lew said his name; he didn’t mind the way Wilbur sounded when it rolled off of Lew’s tongue.

 

 _Lucky Ducky_ : Do you want to do something this week? also are you coming to "july 4th that is actually the 18th hell?" t-minus three weeks but my mom wants a head count.

Runner stared at the message for a while. He thought about replying and began typing out a message, but ended up having nothing to say. He backspaced and locked his phone. It buzzed a few minutes later.

 _Lucky Ducky_ : ?

Runner swiped to clear the notification. He really didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t want Lucky’s sourness to ruin anything. Part of him protested that it wasn’t fair of him to judge Lucky like that. Thoughts of Bill and Lucky ditching him quieted the protests.

 _Lucky Ducky_ : I can see you read my message. If you can’t, just reply that you can’t.

Runner scowled at his phone and jammed his thumb over the home button to unlock it. He typed back a quick reply and didn’t care how petty he sounded.

 **Run Run Rudolph** : sorry busy with work. idk if i can make it but ill try

 _Lucky Ducky_ : K.

Runner scoffed at Lucky’s obvious passive aggression and put his phone face-down on his desk. He didn’t have to dignify Lucky’s pettiness with a response.

 

He was jogging the next morning when it hit him that he hadn’t made plans with Lew to meet up again. A jolt of guilt was quickly accompanied by panic. Assuming Lew didn’t have a phone, there was no way he could get into contact with him. He thought of the tree and his feet turned back the way he came. He could drop by his house and grab something to leave a note with? Then, he could go out and visit the tree at the end of the day.

It didn’t take long to rustle through the drawers in his parents’ barely-used office. Runner grabbed a plastic ziplock bag to protect the letter from rain damage and hastily scribbled down his message:

“Hey Lew,

It’s Runner. Sorry about not making more plans with you. I hope you get this! I’ll be free next Monday, Thursday, and Sunday, but I can always meet in the mornings since I have only afternoon shifts for the next two weeks.

Sorry again,

Damsel in Distress”

Runner couldn’t help but doodling a little dragon on the side of the paper. He hoped Lew would laugh at it. After stuffing it into the bag and sliding it into his pack, he set off into the woods.

He noticed that he was making a trail with his frequent visits. It felt like it should mean something, but Runner wasn’t sure what.

The forest was a hazy yellow with early morning light. The only sounds Runner could hear were his steps and breath. The forest seemed as though it was still sleeping. The tree branches practically snored in the breeze, and the birds were nowhere to be heard.

Runner kept moving along. It wouldn’t be long until he reached the jumble of rocks. As he wove between trees, a figure came into focus. He stopped short when a large stag was standing in the middle of a newly-fallen copse. The copse was afflicted with the white fungus, and the stag’s muzzle was investigating at the oak trees’ oozing bark. Runner stepped on a twig, which snapped unhelpfully under his shoe. Spooked, the stag raised its head. It was less than twenty feet from him and breathed a warning snort in his direction. Runner didn’t move, even when it stomped sharp hooves against the leaf litter. It’s antlers were a crown of pale, deadly-sharp tines. Even though its russet coat shone with the soft light, its eyes were an otherworldly glitter.

They were two pools of unidentifiable galaxies that sparkled in the early morning. Runner felt those eyes pierce his soul and he quivered in his shoes. He never knew what it was like to feel like prey. It should’ve been the other way around: a human was much more a predator than a deer. It was larger than a white-tailed, and its wide chest heaved with each breath. Runner doubted it was a white-tailed at all. It looked like an elk, and those didn’t live anywhere near a suburban town in New York. The longer Runner stared at it, the faster his heartbeat raced.

They stared each other down until the stag’s tail twitched and it galloped off into the trees. It plunged into the brush and was gone in a second. Runner’s heart surged in his chest and he wanted to book it back to his house. He didn’t want to think too hard about what happened, but the stag was trying to tell him something. Runner couldn’t deny what his instincts were telling him: that stag was there for a reason. He just didn’t know _what_ message he was supposed to understand. All he knew was that the percentage of him that believed he was making up all the superstition was dwindling more and more by the day. Instead of running back, he bolted ahead towards the tree. People who did track were either sprinters or long-distance. It was one or the other, and Runner was always more of the long-distance type. His sprint to the tree would’ve classified him as one of the top sprinters on his team.

He tore across the meadow and didn’t feel safe until he had his back resting against the trunk of the oak tree. The trunk groaned threateningly and Runner didn’t even care if he sounded nuts by talking to it.

“Please, just let me hide here from a crazy demon deer for, like, five fucking minutes. I have only so much crazy to deal with in my ‘weird shit Runner has to deal with’ quota, and that deer took the fucking lot. That said, please, don’t try to be a dick and kill me. I think you’d be piss-scared if a giant beast with knives on its head acted like it wanted to charge you.” Runner rambled at the tree, uncaring about the breathy panic in his voice or how he gripped the uneven bark under his fingers like his life depended on it. Slowly, he calmed. When he slid down the trunk and huddled his back against it, he felt a bit more at peace.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “I just had a panic attack about a demon deer. That’s just… Man, what the fuck is this summer?”

The tree’s branches creaked in reply. Runner had no idea what it meant, but he hoped it was something comforting.

“Thanks for not killing me yet, by the way. Much appreciated.” Runner patted a thick root by his side. “I’m leaving a note here for a friend, so don’t attack him or anything when he gets here. Not like I could tell you to do anything, since you’re, well, a tree that enjoys scaring people.”

Runner put his face in his hands. “I really need to stop getting involved in nature. I go out in the woods and all this shit starts happening.”

He tucked the note in the place where he and Lucky had put the tupperware. It felt like a lifetime ago that they both acted like explorers and set out to find cryptids. Runner wondered where they went wrong.

 

The days after his altercation with the stag were tense. Runner wanted to go back to the tree and see if Lew had written back to him, but he thought of deer’s sharp antlers and locked his back door. There was an imaginary rut in his house from his pacing. Runner was antsy, but that usually happened after one of his panic attacks. He was impressed he could bike to work and arrive in one piece; he began packing extra shirts because he would sweat through them on the way from the stress and anxiety. The heat had nothing on his nerves in terms of perspirant quantity.

After staring out his back window for twenty minutes, Runner thought of Lew out in the woods with the demon deer (if that was what it was). If Lew could survive living full-time in the forest with it, then Runner could open his back door and go to the tree. Maybe the tree would protect him again, but Runner wasn’t sure if it had protected him from the deer or if he was trying to believe it did.

Runner grasped the door handle tightly and took a series of deep breaths. He counted down from ten and then ran for it. He hadn’t even bothered bringing anything; if he thought too hard about it, he wouldn’t have opened the door at all.

Even though he knew he had to make it to the meadow as fast as he could, he was forced to stop at the overwhelming reek of decay. The trees of the forest were bowled over onto themselves. Runner gaped at the utter desolation around him. The white fungus had spread onto the other oak trees, but other species of trees had fallen, as well. The path Runner usually took was covered in freshly-collapsed trunks and branches drenched in white fungus. This was what battlefields looked like after the guns stopped firing; there was nothing but destruction and corpses.

Runner looked up and was shocked to see Lew standing amongst the wreckage. It was odd to see him so close to Runner’s neighborhood; he looked alarmingly out of place.

“Lew,” Runner called. Lew’s head whipped around to look at him. His appearance was awful, his face pale and drawn. The ashen tone of his skin rivaled the white of his shirt. Runner watched as Lew’s shoulders quaked around hacking coughs..

“What are you doing here?” Lew rasped. Runner hastily made his way over and steadied himself after tripping over a stray branch.

“Trying to find you,” Runner replied. “Did you get my note?”

“Note?” Lew quirked a brow. “Oh, yes, I did. I wrote a reply, but I guess it doesn't matter now that you're here.”

“Are you getting sick? Your voice sounds different.” Lew did sound different; his voice was dry and exhausted. The indigo smudges under his eyes made his blue irises stand out.

“I’ll be alright, I think. It’s mostly the smell,” he croaked. He covered his nose with the back of his hand. He gestured towards the wreckage wordlessly, and they both turned back to the fallen trees.

“Do you know what did this? It has to be more than the fungus,” Runner said. He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “Are there any other areas where it’s this bad?”

Lew pursed his lips. “Not yet, but I have a feeling there will be.”

Runner sighed and nudged a branch with his foot. It broke his heart a little to see so much death. Plants dying was one thing. This scene felt undeniably _violent_.

“You live near here, don’t you,” Lew exclaimed. What should have sounded like a question was a resigned statement, and Runner didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’ve been keeping track of it every time I go see you, actually. I don’t know how it’s spreading, but there could be spores in the air. That’s a common way it works, I think.”

Lew hummed and turned back towards the meadow. He turned back to see Runner standing awkwardly by the upturned roots of an oak. He let out a few more coughs and gestured for Runner to follow him, and Runner did.

 

“Wilbur, I didn’t want to do this over voicemail, but… You haven’t left me another choice. Your mother and I are getting a divorce. I won’t be home for the rest of the summer. I can imagine you’re worried about the money and the house, but your job at Mr. Puller’s should help you pay for your own food and we’ll still pay your tuition… I'll be taking the house, and you can still live there, I guess. I’m going to be in meetings for the next few days - your mother has been unreachable, so don’t try to call either of us… Feel free to text. Sorry you had to find out this way. I’ll be back to drive you to the airport in August.”

Runner stared out the window above the kitchen sink until the mid-morning sun crested to noon. After deleting the voicemail, he went upstairs and curled up in bed for the rest of the day.

 

Runner spent more time with Lew under the tree, insisting that they could just relax there instead of explore. Lew allowed it under the promise of more Oreos.

Today was no different.

Runner couldn’t stop tapping on his knees, looking nervously at the distant trees. They were still standing, but who knew for how long. At least Lew looked a bit better, but Runner had a feeling it was a front. Sometimes, Lew would itch at his arms until the skin was red. He would emphasize that it didn’t mean anything, but Runner caught the glimpses of fear and uncertainty in the downturn of his lips and the creases under his eyes.

Runner was sitting on the ground in a nook between some of the knotted roots while Lew swung his legs from a low limb. They had finished the Oreos earlier and were just enjoying the warm weather.

“Where’d you learn that?” Lew asked. Runner shot him a questioning glance. His face was unreadable.

“Learn what?”

“That rhythm.” Lew pointed down towards Runner’s moving fingers. “Where’d you learn that?”

Runner stilled his tapping and looked down at his hands. Frowning, he looked up at Lew.

“Honestly, I have no clue,” he answered. Lew’s face went slack with alarm.

“Lew? What is it?” He hid his fingers in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lew waved a hand dismissively. “Just thought I recognized it for a second.”

“Recognized it?” Runner tilted his head at him. “Is that bad?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lew said.

“I’ve never seen you look that worried, so I think I’m allowed to be concerned,” Runner returned easily. Lew shifted his hips on the thick limb of the tree before hopping down.

“I wasn’t expecting it, is all,” Lew muttered. He moved over to Runner and sat near him, but not as close as usual. He itched at the inside of his wrist furiously for a few seconds.

“Where do you know it from?” Runner asked. Even though he had spent a chunk of his summer thus far in Lew’s company, Runner didn’t know a lot about him. Runner wanted to know Lew inside and out. It might’ve had to do with Runner’s growing affection, but Lew was there for him when many others couldn’t be.

The summer had been off-kilter in a foreign way. Everything was changing, and Runner didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t have any control, and the only two certains things were his parents’ absence and his friendship with Lew. A tentative friendship though it was, it grounded them both to each other even if they felt like a little boat in an endless sea.

 _Lucky Ducky_ : I know you have a day off on Thursday. You and me are having dinner at your place.

 **Run Run Rudolph** : any reason why?

 _Lucky Ducky_ : We haven’t hung out in a while. We need to catch up.

 **Run Run Rudolph** : ok

 

Thursday evening came quickly. Runner looked up from the pot of pasta to see Lucky walk into the house. He fiddled with his keys and sat uncomfortably at the table. He dumped the pasta onto the plates by the counter and stabbed forks into them. This dinner already felt tense, and Runner felt the thick cords of anxiety tighten in his chest.

“Hey,” Lucky said. Runner nodded back at him. He brought over the two plates and placed them down.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Can’t complain,” Lucky replied. His smile was a quick flash, but it wasn’t anything welcoming. Lucky smiled like that when he was trying to hide something.

They dug into the pasta in silence as the late afternoon light rolled carefully across the floor. Eventually, Runner stopped eating and waited for Lucky to just spit it out. Lucky swallowed his final bite and took his and Runner’s plate to the sink. It was out of character, and it set Runner on edge. When he sat back down, the air around them got heavier.

“So,” Lucky drawled. He circled the rim of his glass with his pointer finger. “You want to tell me where you’ve been all summer and why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“What?” Runner snorted. “I’ve just been doing my same old thing.”

“Really? Because you never answer any of my texts, or, if you do, they’re half-assed. We haven’t hung out since we fucked around in the woods, and you think that’s the ‘same old thing?’” Lucky frowned at him with stony eyes. Runner’s chest tightened defensively; he didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“I’ve been chilling with other people,” Runner answered lowly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve been ditching me, then?” Lucky’s face softened with hurt.

“No, I’ve been hanging with someone else. There’s a difference.”

“That’s literally the definition of ditching,” Lucky sniffed. He bit his lip and pushed the glass off to the side.

“Why are you so upset? You’ve been doing the same to me,” Runner returned sharply.

“Have I? Prove it,” Lucky challenged. His eyes were like chips of ice and his hands formed fists on top of the table.

Runner simply said, “Bill.”

Lucky’s face grew stormy, and he abruptly pushed away from the table to stand. Runner had hit a nerve and they both knew it. “What the fuck does he have to do with this?”

“You’ve been ditching me to hang out with him, and you’ve lied about what you do when you’re fucking around somewhere with him.” Runner stood as well. “You haven’t told me about Bill at all. Why would you hide him from me like that?”

“Bill is, honestly, not coming into this discussion, and he’s staying out of it because there’s nothing to say. I can hang out with other people without you hovering over me like my fucking parents.” Lucky snorted. He tapped his fingers against the table hard. Runner glared at him.

“Don’t you think I would have wanted to know?” Runner was angry. He felt the words slip out of his teeth faster than he could think. “You could’ve told me instead of being a douchebag.”

“Why would you want to know? You never give a shit about me, Runner! You just sit on your ass and say, ‘oh, that sucks man!’ Like, what the _fuck_? You think you’re allowed to give me shit about going to someone else that actually cares about me? Ever since you got back this summer, you’ve been a self-absorbed asshole. So yeah, I will be a douchebag and call you on your shit, because that’s what best friends do,” Lucky heaved. His body trembled with rage and his face curled into a hurt, furious grimace.

“You talk about us being best friends, but all you do is complain about your family, Luck,” Runner retorted. “Don’t you think I would like to put up with overbearing parents if they at least _talked_ to me? I haven’t seen my parents since they picked me up from the fucking airport in _May_ . They’re getting… Just. Yours want to have family dinners and you _complain_ about that? Do you know how badly I _want_ what you have? I haven’t had a dinner with both of my parents since fucking elementary school!”

“My parents like it better when I’m not even home,” Lucky seethed. “You fucking know that, and you think I should be _grateful_ for that?”

“No,” Runner protested, “but you act like they’re the worst parents ever! I could fucking disappear or die and my parents wouldn’t even notice. They didn’t want me and they don’t hide that. I was a mistake, and they take every opportunity to never come back to this house. To come back to _me_.”

“Don’t compare them, then! Our parents suck and treat us like shit, but that doesn’t mean you should give me shit for wanting better!” Lucky snarled.

“You shove it in my face! How am I supposed to take that? Didn’t you know how that would make me feel?” Runner folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t know anything about you anymore, because you never fucking _talk to me_ ,” Lucky yelled back. His hands clenched the edge of the counter. Him and Runner were two fronts, one hot, the other cold. Their collision sparked a storm, and the air around them crackled dangerously.

“When was the last time you ever _asked_ about my life, Luck? I can’t fucking remember. Whenever I try to bring up something, you talk about yourself,” Runner seethed. Lucky glared harder.

“Then, why didn’t you tell me to shut up and listen? Haven’t we been friends long enough that you trust me enough to honor that? Don’t you know that I would go to fucking war with you and do everything I could to keep you safe? Don’t you know that I would die for you? Don’t you know that you’re my best friend?” Lucky’s voice was thick and his eyes were glassy with wet tears.

“No, I guess I don’t,” Runner muttered bitterly. Lucky’s face dropped. They were both too stubborn to back down, and the moment tremored between the two of them like an earthquake. “Just get out of my house.”

“You know,” Lucky spat, backing away from the table, “I haven’t heard you call this place ‘home’ in _years_. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You think you know so much, but you don’t even know who you fucking are or where you belong. You’re just as lost as you’ve always been, and you can’t stand anyone being more miserable than you. Don’t try to drag me down just because you can’t deal with your shit. You’re not the friend I grew up with; you’re a stranger that’s been wasting my fucking time.”

“Fuck you,” Runner shot back weakly. His own eyes filled with tears. He clenched his shirt sleeves with white knuckles. “Get the fuck out.”

“Gladly. Have fun being fucking alone. It won’t be long until you drive away everyone else, too,” Lucky hissed. He stormed out of the garage door and slammed it. Even though it was one of the hottest days of the summer, Runner had never felt so frozen. He slumped down to the table and put his head in his hands. He sobbed into his palms and stayed there, crying, long after it went dark. His dreams that night were a chasm of oak branches and screaming.

 

Runner walked out to the tree the next afternoon with packed sandwiches and a packet of Oreos. He was determined to not think about Lucky. The trees were still falling the closer they got to the meadow, and Runner tried not to worry about what that could mean. The sun was hot and cicadas were screaming, but not in the middle of the meadow. The wind buffeted his face. It looked like he was growing on the forest and its magical entities, whatever they were. Runner thought about what Lew said a while ago about the faeries as he settled against the shaded trunk of the tree. He didn’t mess around with the faeries, and, as long as they didn’t mess around with him, everything would be dandy.

He unpacked one of the sandwiches and started munching on it. Lew was nowhere to be seen, but Runner had a feeling he would show up eventually. He pulled a book on fungi out of his pack and began combing through it. The library had a whole section about fungi and different types of mushrooms. There was quite a lengthy collection on different types of molds, and each volume looked heavily used. The wonders of Elderwood never ceased; people in it loved learning about mold of all things.

“Did you bring Oreos?” Runner choked on his sandwich and nearly spat lettuce all over the cover of _Fungus Identification for the Local Natural Historian_.

“Fuck,” Runner coughed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Did I?” Lew smiled. He tussled Runner’s hair, probably just to hear his sounds of complaint. “What do you have there?”

“Want to try to figure out what that white fungus is?” Runner asked. He tried to look cool, but there wasn’t really a way to do that when you were holding a veggie sandwich and were about to excitedly read a book on fungi.

“I don’t think it’ll be in there, but be my guest,” Lew snorted. He started snorting the more he hung out with Runner, and it made Runner’s cheeks warm.

“It’s worth a shot. Maybe if we find out what it is that’s been destroying the forest, we could kill it.” Runner gave Lew a hopeful smile. Lew’s face was tight.

“What is it? Something’s been up with you,” Runner inquired. Lew just shook his head and sat down next to him. Their thighs touched, so Runner rested the book across both of their laps.

“It’s something I figured out. I have to do it myself,” Lew sighed. Runner watched as he leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree. He looked defeated. There were dark red patches on his arms and across his cheek from his scratching nails.

“What do you have to do yourself? Save the forest?” Runner stared at him indignantly. “Hell no. I’m in this with you, alright? We can do it together.”

“Okay,” Lew muttered, unconvinced. Runner grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together over the book cover.

“I mean it,” Runner urged. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s hurting you. I know you’re sick. I want to help you, alright? I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Lew’s mouth dropped open and he quivered. His blue eyes were watery. Pained, he squeezed Runner’s hand. Lew looked away and wiped his eyes with his free hand.

“Please,” he whispered. Runner leaned against him.

“I won’t leave you, Lew. No one should have to be alone.” They stared each other down. Lew sniffled quietly and blinked hard to hold back tears.

“Okay,” he replied, voice broken. Runner leaned back against the bark of the tree and stared at the deep green of the leaves above them. It was a green that no artist could capture; it was a green so vibrant with life that nothing could capture it in a photograph or a painting. Runner felt that green touch his soul, touch Lew’s soul, and he knew that he was bound to the forest in some way. He had an obligation to have a hand in its survival, and therefore was recruited to save Lew. Lew was as much a part of the forest as the trees. His sickness was too much to be a coincidence. Whatever was going on was larger than the two of them, but damn if Runner wouldn’t fight tooth and nail for this place, for this man next to him.

He turned his head to watch Lew, who was staring across the golden meadow dotted with blue flowers. His eyes were faded, even with the water twinkling on his eyelashes. Runner squeezed his hand and remembered the song his mother used to sing to him when he was toddler. Before everything went to shit and left Runner alone and his parents scattered to different parts of the world to escape him, just because he existed. He began humming.

“ _Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain_ ,” Runner sang delicately, “ _we all have sorrow_.”

Lew looked back at him with wonder in his eyes. His shoulders loosened and he turned his chest towards Runner instinctively. Lew listened with his whole body to the words Runner continued singing.

“ _But if we are wise, we know that there’s always tomorrow_.” Lew’s thumb moved over Runner’s in circular motions. Runner continued through the rest of the song and didn’t look away from Lew once. Even if Lew wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, Runner made sure to let him know that he was here to stay.

They stayed that way even when Runner stopped singing. The book was forgotten in favor of sitting next to each other in comforting silence. When Runner parted to go home, their fingers lingered on each other. Lew had a broken look on his face. Runner wished with all his heart that there was something he could do to have Lew tell him what was wrong.

 

42 Wallaby Way : It’s going to be this week - I’m going to do it

 **Runner:** good luck dude. lemme know how it goes!

42 Wallaby Way  : Fingers crossed and all that haha. I just cant keep lying anymore and I hope it’ll be okay.

 **Runner** : as long as youre sure. im here for u dude

42 Wallaby Way : Thanks Bud. xx

 **Runner** : xx

 

“What’s gotten into you, Wilbur?” Chesty grumbled. He shuffled past Runner and lay down some more files. “You’ve been acting more dour than John, and he’s the one with the girlfriend troubles.”

“Just some stuff has been happening lately. Sorry, Chesty, I’ll figure it out,” Runner sighed. He couldn’t pretend to be cheery. It had only been four days, but Lucky’s words were still too fresh. Runner wasn’t going to act like he didn’t deserve it. That didn’t mean he was going to apologize yet. Lucky had crossed a line. He had crossed a lot of lines, and Runner wasn’t going to forgive that easily.

He also knew that Lucky was right, but Runner wasn’t ready to deal with it. Runner wasn’t ready to deal with himself.

“I can have J.P. pick up some more shifts for you, if you need. I know your folks haven’t been home. That must be hard on you. All alone in that house,” Chesty drawled and put a hand on the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“It’s not that, Chesty, but, uh, thanks anyway.” Runner gave him a curt nod and tried to go back to filling out paperwork.

“You, uh,” Chesty said, rubbing his chin, “you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” Runner mumbled. He was surprised when Chesty clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

“If you need something, son, you can always come to me.” His eyes were too intense and Runner had to look away. He too often forgot that Chesty was the one who had taken one look at Runner and hired him, just to keep him out of his house. Chesty had written a recommendation for his college applications, and brought in cupcakes his wife made when Runner got accepted to Purdue. Runner forgot that Chesty wasn’t so heartless as to only ask after Runner for work, but because, over the years, he had taken care of him; Chesty made sure he had a place to work and let Runner, more or less, sit in a spinning chair and organize files all afternoon. Runner felt ashamed that he had pushed Chesty’s kindness out of his mind for so long.

“Thanks,” Runner said softly. He tried to convey the words that wouldn’t come to his tongue in his eyes. The way Chesty smiled at him, Runner knew he had gotten the message across.

Chesty nodded and patted his shoulder. “Alright, get back to work. I don’t pay you to mope around.”

Runner gave him a small smile as Chesty ambled back out to the garage. The weight in his chest felt a little lighter.

 

“You okay?” Lew asked him. They were sitting by the waterfall with their feet in the water. Runner didn’t think he would find Lew when he showed up at the tree at random. Lew’s skin was still red and irritated and his eyes were dull, but he agreed to go to the waterfall. According to Lew, the fungus wouldn’t spread there yet. His voice wobbled on “yet,” and Runner rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

Runner was happy to have company that wanted him; Lew was a good distraction. It had been six days since Runner and Lucky’s fight. Each day without communication deepened the divide between them, but Runner wasn’t going to cave first. He couldn’t; he had too much pride.

Lew’s hands were folded in his lap, and empty Oreo wrappers were clumsily stashed into Runner’s pack. Runner looked at the dark crumbs from the Oreos that tucked themselves in the creases of Lew’s palms and underneath his fingernails. Runner looked up at how the sun fell sweetly on Lew’s hair. He thought Lew’s was black, but the light revealed that it was rich brown.

“You okay?” Lew repeated, concerned.

“Just dealing with stuff.” Lew looked unconvinced, but nodded. Runner tugged gently at the grass between his fingers. “How are you? You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I am,” Lew sighed. His normally flushed skin was grey with sleep deprivation. “Lots of late nights.”

“What’s been keeping you up?” Runner tilted his head curiously at him. He hoped he’d get a straight answer from Lew, finally. Instead, Lew gave him a playful curl of his lips and a side glance.

“You know, ‘just dealing with stuff.’”

Runner groaned, “That’s not fair.”

“Lots of things aren’t fair,” Lew said, flicking Runner’s ear.

“What if I tell you what’s going on with me? Will you tell me then?” Runner rubbed his ear with his fingers. Lew looked down at his lap and sighed deeply.

“Not if you keep pushing me,” Lew promised. Runner nudged their shoulders against each other.

“Okay,” he conceded. Grateful, Lew went back to staring at the trees and the water.

“How’s the town doing? It’s been hot the past few weeks,” Lew commented. His fingers twitched in his lap.

“It’s good. Chesty’s been getting a lot of business from people breaking their air conditioning or their windows, so the shop’s been busy.” Runner ran a hand along the hem of his shorts. He didn’t wear shorts often, but this week was particularly brutal. It was over 95 degrees. That should be illegal. No other county was getting this hot. Even Mobile, Sid’s home, wasn’t this hot, and Sid lived in _Alabama_. To top it off, there hadn’t been rain to soak the sun-shriveled earth.

“Who’s been coming into the shop?” Lew asked. The question was unfamiliar and caught Runner off guard.

“Just some of the old names: Joneses, Gunthers, Hornbolds, Thistles, et cetera. Mrs. Gibson’s car has been in the shop more than anyone else’s. For some reason, something keeps breaking. It’s driving Chesty nuts, but I think he has a soft spot her. They always sneak off to talk.” Runner didn’t look at Lew either, even though he wanted to. Runner had a feeling Lew was asking after the town because he was too anxious to go by himself. He probably couldn’t handle the amount of people, and Runner did his best to understand that. It didn’t feel like the right answer to Lew’s behavior, but it was the most comfortable one. Runner liked comfortable more than prying.

“You mention Mrs. Gibson a lot,” Lew said. “From what you’ve said before, she’s quite a character.”

“Yeah, she’s one of those odd, middle-aged women who go on weird benders. Last year, she apparently went on seven juice cleanses and tried to make everyone try canola oil face masks. I feel bad for her son, to be honest. She’s super nice, but really wacky. He’s worried that he’s going to have to put her in a home.” Runner fell back onto the grass and splayed out his arms. Lew finally looked at him and cocked his head.

“Why’s that?”

“She’s sleep-walking and yelling about the trees, apparently. It’s freaking him out. He’s a bit at a loss about it.” Runner rubbed his palms against the grass and waited for Lew’s response.

“Interesting,” was all he said. Runner shrugged, or he tried to while lying down.

“I guess so,” Runner replied. “I’m hoping it could be a coincidence, but she’s always believed in faeries and that the trees are powerful. Kind of like you.”

Lew squinted against the sunlight and sighed. “Some people are in-tune with the earth like us, but I don’t think she’ll be much help.”

“Like ‘us?’” Runner questioned.

“Yeah.” Lew nodded and didn’t look at him. “You feel the forest almost as much as I do.”

“I do?” Runner could hardly believe that. Lew glanced at him briefly.

“Yeah. I thought you knew that.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t. Good to know, I guess. Okay, changing the subject. You could always come with me and see my side of Elderwood if you’re so interested. I’d take you to the ice cream parlor and we could walk around downtown. Maybe see a movie at the theater a few towns over. Or we could just chill at my house or something.”

“I don’t know,” Lew mumbled. His voice held a twinge of anxiety. “I’m not confident in your taste in ice cream.”

“Oh, how _dare_ you,” Runner squawked. “I have great taste in ice cream, thank you! They have dairy-free for your vegan ass, and I’ve tried it and it’s amazing.”

“Well my ‘vegan ass’ hasn’t forgotten that you hate cucumbers, and that’s something I can’t support.” Lew quirked an eyebrow at him. Runner had offhandedly mentioned his distaste for them a week ago. He couldn’t believe Lew remembered that.

“Cucumbers taste like depressed water and you know it,” Runner retorted. He shoved at Lew’s waist and wrapped his fingers in the fabric of his shirt.

“Admit that it’s depression water in a vegetable,” Runner urged, tugging at Lew’s shirt.

“Nope,” Lew grinned. He chuckled when Runner pouted dramatically at him.

“I can’t believe you,” Runner groaned. He threw his free arm of his eyes, but peeked to look at Lew. He ran a hand through his dark curls and bent over Runner.

“I can’t believe you, either,” he murmured. They stared at each other for a long moment and the sounds of the forest faded and muffled. The waterfall quieted itself as Lew’s eyes searched Runner’s. Runner suddenly and desperately wanted Lew to kiss him.

“Come on.” Lew cleared his throat, breaking them out of their trance. “It’s going to get dark soon. Let’s walk back.”

“Oh,” Runner replied. He tried not to feel disappointed. “Yeah, okay.”

 

 **Runner** : sid are you okay? im assuming no news is good news? let me know.

 **Runner** : x

 

“Do you think happiness is real?” Runner asked Lew. They were sitting on the boulder sharing a packet of double-stuffed Oreos. Well, Lew was eating most of them and Runner was snagging what he could before they were all gone.

“I think so,” Lew said through a mouthful of cookie. “I’m not too familiar with it, so I don’t think I’m a great source of wisdom.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not either,” Runner said. He bumped against Lew’s shoulder with his own. That seemed to be their thing now. The past times they spent together, they had grown physically closer. Even in the burning heat, they sat shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.

“You’re not miserable, are you?” Lew asked. He looked shocked at the idea of Runner being unhappy.

“I’m _incredibly_ unhappy,” Runner replied easily. “For the most part, I just try to not think about it, but everything in my life will be a dead end one day.”

“That’s bleak,” Lew commented. Runner shrugged.

“It’s what happens when your parents don’t give a shit about you and left you to fend for yourself since you were in middle school.”

“Your parents abandoned you?” Lew was aghast.

“Not totally,” Runner reassured him, “but they go on bullshit business trips all the time. They don’t even like each other, and they like me even less. I’m pretty sure I was born from an affair or something.”

Something flashed in Lew’s eyes, but Runner didn’t know what it could mean. Lew turned towards him and stared at him, hard. Even while looking at him, Lew had a faraway look in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Runner asked nervously. He fidgeted with the hem of his shorts.

“It can’t be you,” Lew whispered painfully, but it seemed like Runner wasn’t supposed to hear him.

“Lew? What’s up?” Runner reached out and ran his fingers over Lew’s cheekbone. It startled him and his eyes were suddenly more alert. He pulled back from Runner smoothly.

“Hey,” Runner repeated, “what’s going on?”

“Sorry.” Lew shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Just have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m your friend. You can trust me, okay? ‘Lean on me’ and all that. If you want to tell me what’s going on, you can,” Runner murmured. Lew nodded slightly.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Lew replied, but Runner could hear the lie. He had been hearing the lie for days. Something was very wrong.

 

The rest of the week passed slowly and quickly. Shifts at the shop dragged seconds into minutes and minutes into hours. Even with the bustle of constant customers, Runner felt more bored than ever. He counted down until he could clock out and go see Lew. They had agreed to meet every day this week, but it was mostly at Runner’s insistence. He had packed his schedule with morning shifts, which had been easy to trade since J.P. loved to sleep in. The loneliness that had settled into Runner’s bones from his absent parents, Lucky and their conflict, and Sid’s anxious radio silence had drained during his time with Lew. His soft eyes and gentle smiles distracted Runner from his turmoil, even if Lew’s turmoil lurked within the corners of his lips and the depths of his irises.

Every moment he spent with Lew, the closer they got, the more Runner found himself lost. It wasn’t the lost that he had been, like Lucky’s echoed snarl about Runner not knowing who he was. He wasn’t lost like that. In fact, Runner was more himself with Lew than he had felt in a long time. Runner was lost in Lew in the best way. He wanted to get lost in Lew’s embrace, in his mouth, and in his soul. Time moved differently when they were together. Everything was changing, but at least Lew was a good thing in his life. Even if everything else was going to shit around him, he had Lew. That was all that mattered.

“Wilbur,” Chesty hollered. “What’s gotten into you lately? I thought you enjoyed working here.”

Runner jolted when he realized he was just staring off into space. He organized the files on the desk and sputtered, “Sorry, Chesty, just lost in thought.”

“Got yourself a girlfriend, finally? You’re off in dreamland with a dopey grin on your face.” Chesty probably meant to grin like a proud father, but instead came off more like the crazed uncle who threw back too many beers at family parties.

“Uh,” Runner replied.

“Congrats, son. Knew you had it in you.” Chesty walked over and slammed his palm down on Runner’s back, knocking the breath out of him.

“Thanks, I think,” Runner wheezed.

“I’ll let you out an hour early if you pay attention to your work,” he said. He slammed his hand down on the desk and knocked over a can of pens and pencils. He leaned in and got close to Runner’s face.

“Tell her ol’ Chesty said a greeting, will you?” He winked. Runner had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. This was so much worse than a sweaty and shirtless Chesty.

“Sure,” he falsely promised. Chesty bought it and smiled the weird uncle smile again.

The rest of his shift, Runner spent trying to recover from Chesty’s brand of bizarre. The man always threw him for a loop, and he’d been working for him for way too long for that to keep happening.

 

Lew was waiting for him at the tree. Runner couldn’t help but run up to him and try to tussle his hair. He had to hop to reach the top of Lew’s head, but managed it and crowed victoriously. Lew grabbed the collar of Runner’s shirt and dragged him to the ground.

“You really want to start a fight you can’t win?” Lew choked out as he wrestled Runner, who couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re sure you can win, huh?” Runner retorted. He yelped when Lew flipped him over onto his stomach and plastered himself to his back.

“Oh,” Lew said lowly into his ear, “I _know_ I can win.”

Runner may or may not have underestimated his attraction to Lew. Especially since he was trying to fight off his arousal from the sultry tone of Lew’s voice. Their position didn’t help matters, either. He was surprised that Lew still had any strength; he was paler and shakier than usual.

“Alright, I give,” Runner relented. He was willing to sacrifice his pride to hide a boner. He wasn’t that much of an arrogant idiot. Only where Lucky was concerned, but he had his reasons. The hand on the back of his neck tightened for a moment as Lew paused. Runner’s brow creased in confusion, but he relaxed when Lew let go of him.

 _What was he thinking about?_ Runner pondered.

“Any reason you’re in such a playful mood?” Lew asked once he had slid back into a sitting position against the trunk of the tree. He reached over and picked some grass out of Runner’s hair.

“Just happy to see you,” Runner shrugged. Runner blushed when Chesty’s comment of ‘girlfriend’ came to mind.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” Lew murmured. The soft look in eyes made Runner want to risk leaning in closer, but Lew’s expression quickly shuttered, like he regretted saying anything. Lew looked off away towards the distant tree-line, and Runner wondered, again, what was going through his head.

“What are you thinking about?” Runner bumped his knuckles against Lew’s white shirt sleeve. He could feel the warm skin beneath.

“The trees...”

“I have no idea what’s happening,” Runner commented. He pushed himself backwards until he was leaning against the tree trunk next to Lew. “The fungus is not like anything I’ve ever seen. I looked it up a few nights ago online, but nothing matched.”

“Hmm,” was all Lew said. He bit his bottom lip and chewed it between his teeth.

“What do you think about it? Do you think the forest will be okay?” Runner twisted to face Lew more directly.

“No,” Lew whispered. He sounded a bit heartbroken. “I don’t think so.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Runner murmured. He brought his knees up to his chest and folded his arms around them.

“You sound so certain that there’s nothing you can do,” Lew huffed. The smile on his face was fake and vitreous. It looked like Lew was holding back tears.

“Hey,” Runner crooned. He unfolded himself and draped an arm across Lew’s chest. “I just don’t know what to do, but I know this is your home. If there’s a way we can fight for it, let’s do it.”

“There’s nothing you can do, I’m afraid.” Lew wrapped his red-patched arms around Runner’s waist and clung to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for needing me,” Runner replied. He nuzzled his nose into Lew’s hair. He smelled like the forest after it rained.

“That’s not what I’m sorry for.” Lew’s hold on him tightened.

“Then, what are you sorry for?” Runner rubbed one of his hands soothingly across Lew’s shoulder blades.

“Don’t worry about it.” Lew shook his head and burrowed his nose into Runner’s neck. He took a deep breath in. Runner tried not to think about how good it felt and focused instead on Lew’s words.

“I wish you would tell me, you know,” Runner smiled sadly into his hair. “I won’t push you, but you can tell me things.”

Lew pulled back until they were just inches apart. His eyes looked deep into Runner’s with a cyclone of nameless emotions. Runner could feel Lew’s breath on his lips. It took everything in him to not tilt his head and lean in. The way Lew’s eyes darted quickly down to Runner’s lips burned.

“You could tell me things, too,” Lew said quietly. There was a deeper meaning in his tone, but Runner was uncertain about what Lew could be alluding to. His brain was still focused on wanting to kiss Lew.

“I know, but there’s not much to tell,” Runner replied with a bittersweet quirk of a smile. His eyes darted down to the pink of Lew’s lips, but when he glanced back into Lew’s eyes, the warmth was gone. Lew leaned away and looked hurt, but Runner wasn’t sure what he did to cause it.

“It’s getting dark out,” Lew said. His voice was detached. “You should get back so you don’t get lost.”

“Okay,” Runner replied tentatively. “You’re still not giving that up, huh? I get lost once and you won’t let it go?”

“Nah.” Lew shook his head and turned his head towards Runner. “Can’t help it.”

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Runner smiled at him, trying to alleviate the mood. An expression crossed Lew’s face, but it was gone too quick to pinpoint it.

“Yeah, we will,” Lew muttered. Runner began walking back towards his house, a little confused. Lew felt far away.

 

He got back to the house and looked at it from the tree line. Its windows were empty and cold. A run-down, abandoned bunch of shambles looked more welcoming than the rigidity of the Conley household. Runner heaved a sigh and shuffled his way across the dry lawn to the back door.

The chill from the hardwood floors seeped through his socks, up through his feet, up through his legs, and wrapped around his lungs. His dinner didn’t warm him, nor did the blankets her piled on himself in his bed. He didn’t care to do anything and barely remembered to plug his phone in by his bed.

Even though the sun hadn’t fully set, Runner’s body drooped with exhaustion. He curled up under the covers and tried to sleep away the chill. He sensed that something bad was going to happen, but so many bad things had already happened this summer. It couldn’t get any worse than this. He already lost his best friend, his parents were getting a divorce, and he hadn’t heard from Sid at all. To top it all off, Lew had been acting strange and wouldn’t tell him why. He was hurting and didn’t trust Runner enough to lean on him.

Lew was closing himself off.

It shouldn’t have even been a big deal, but Lew’s mistrust hurt more sharply than the rest. Maybe his heart already knew that these other things were going to happen, but it was unprepared for someone like Lew.

Runner sniffled and blinked away the wet in his eyes. He hadn’t cried this much since he was in middle school. It felt like hours before he fell into fitful dreams of oak trees and death.

 

A loud buzzing caroused right by Runner’s ear. Runner flailed his hand around for the source. His fingers gripped his phone and he turned it over so the light of the screen made him squint. He sat up against his headboard.

“Yeah?” Runner said in a groggy, croaky voice. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“H-hey, it’s Sid.” Runner perked up with alarm. Any trace of fatigue disappeared.

“Hey,” Runner started, “what’s wrong? Are you safe?”

There was a long pause, and Runner didn’t dare breathe. He could hear Sid’s breathing on the other line; it sounded heavy and uneven. He could hear the crumply audio of wind in the background.

“Remember how you said I could stay with you if I needed to?” Sid’s words rushed out of him in one breath, and it took Runner a few seconds to understand them. When he did, he felt his heart stop for a second.

“Sid, are you safe?” he repeated. He was white-knuckling his phone.

“I’m on I-85 right now,” Sid said, “heading up towards Birmingham.”

“Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, how far away are you?”

Runner slid out of bed. He rummaged around to find his gym shorts and pulled them on with one hand, grabbed his laptop, and dashed down to the kitchen. The clock above the oven read _2:36 AM_. At the kitchen table, Runner opened his laptop and opened up to Google Maps.

“I started driving three hours ago,” Sid said. “I’m almost at Birmingham. Only a another half hour or so. I just had to get out of there, Bud.”

“Okay, take your time. Do you have any money with you?” Runner’s brain was rollercoastering on high speed, trying to piece together what was happening.

“I just kind of grabbed all my stuff, threw it in my truck, and left. It… it went _much_ worse than I expected.”

“God, Sid, I’m sorry,” Runner whispered. Sid just let out a broken, sardonic laugh. His voice was thicker when he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not like you were the one who disowned me.” Runner’s eyes burned with tears.

“Oh my god, Sid. Just get here safe, okay? Call me if you stop at a gas station or something. I’m here for you.” Runner typed in Sid’s city, Mobile, and waited while the route loaded. When it did, he nearly choked on his spit. _Fuck, it’s a 20 hour drive?_

“It’s going to take you, like, almost a full day to get here if you just drive the whole time. I’ll try to find you a good place for a rest stop.” Runner opened a new tab and tried to find some cheap hotels in the main cities on the route.

“How far do you think you can drive before you need to stop?”

“I want to get out of Alabama before I stop,” Sid replied.

“Chattanooga is right on the border, but it’ll be six in the morning. If you haven’t slept since yesterday. It’ll be dangerous.” Runner informed.

“I can drink some coffees. I’ve been to some banks along the way. I, uh, emptied my accounts with them and transferred what I could. The rest I took out in cash.” Runner knew how rich Sid’s family was and that he had quite a lot of money in his private accounts.

“You have at least put that cash into bags so no one sees it, right?” Runner asked nervously.

“I’m not an idiot,” Sid grumbled back, “I shoved it all in one of my suitcases for school.”

“Good. Anyway, Bristol looks promising. You can stop off there, and you’ll probably get there in six hours. Do you think you can hold out for that?” He heard Sid scoff.

“We used to pull regular all-nighters freshman year. I think I can handle six more hours of this if it gets me the fuck away from my house. Even then, I have my AUX cord to keep me company. How many hours did you say it was from Bristol to Elderwood?”

“Uh, let me check. It’s...” Runner said, typing in the route quickly, “about nine and a half hours, but let’s say eleven in case of traffic.”

“Fuck, I am going to be so happy when I finally pull up to your house,” Sid sighed.

“I just want you to get here safe. My parents aren’t home and probably won’t be, so, yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He took a deep breath to keep his composure.

“Drive safe, alright?”

Sid sniffled loudly on the other line and said, “Yeah. Thanks, Bud.”

“Stop off in Bristol. You’ll be able to find a hotel there for cheap.”

“Alright,” Sid answered. “I’ll call you again when I get to Chattanooga. Talk to you then.”

“Talk to you then.” Runner pulled his phone away from his ear and hit the “End Call” button on his screen. He sat at his kitchen table in silence for a few moments. Then, the muscles in his chest tightened up. His eyes blurred with saline tears. His lungs quaked around deep breaths.

 _Crying isn’t going to help anyone, especially not Sid_ , he scolded himself.

Runner attempts to divert his emotion by pouring himself a glass of tap water. Having taken long sips, he stared at how the sink drain sucked the remaining water down into its depths. His fingers tapped the counter in the lazy, halting rhythm, but his mind wasn’t focused on it.

He felt lost in the memories of what he and Sid used to have. What he and Sid were to each other wasn’t easy to define, but they were undeniably intertwined.

Harboring those memories in Elderwood wasn’t going to be easy. Having Sid in Elderwood wasn’t going to be easy; even though he was twenty years old, his parents paid his tuition and everything else. At least Sid had signed over most of his bank accounts to himself prior to the previous night. Runner was there when he did it during their sophomore year. He never forgot what Sid had said:

 _“Now they can’t track me if I run away. I can leave them forever if I ever wanted to. You could come with me. Make it an adventure,”_ he had said with the biggest grin. Runner had leaned over and kissed him silly.

Runner missed the feeling he had when he and Sid were dating. He missed being able to go to someone and be able to curl up on their bed. He missed being open with someone in the way he and Sid were. Runner knew who he wanted, and that person was sitting in the middle of a meadow with a beautiful smile. That person touched him like he was precious and roughhoused with him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That person was Lew. Even if Lew didn’t want him the same way, Runner would take what Lew offered. He’d be Lew’s friend, he’d be his acquaintance: just to be near him.

Grief bubbled inside Runner. Sid would be in his house in less than 48 hours and Runner wasn’t emotionally ready for that. He wasn’t ready to comfort a man, a _boy_ , from the despair of being disowned by his parents. Runner wasn’t ready to be responsible for another person. He could barely handle himself and also carry the anxiety over Lew’s welfare.

Runner leaned his back against the counter and looked out over his small, desolate kitchen with its dusty cupboards and cold tiles. The glowing oven clock read _3:07 AM._ Even though he knew it was too early to be doing this, he went back upstairs, pulled on a hoodie, slid on his running shoes, and slipped out the back door. There was only one place and one person he wanted to be with right now. He wanted to go home. The woods opened up for him and he surged forward into the dark.

Runner sprinted the whole way to the tree. The trail was so familiar to him that he could have run it blindfolded. Even with the arboreal wreckage, it was like his feet knew where to land between their trunks and branches. He might as well have been blindfolded, because the tears in his eyes fogged what little visibility he would have had. His breaths were shaking and sob-filled.

The forest was silent around him. Not even the bugs and night creatures clicked or chirped. They all understood that something grave was about to happen. If Runner’s mind was clearer, maybe he would have noticed that the last few standing trees were holding their breath anxiously. It was too dark for Runner to notice how all the oaks of the forest oozed white, slimy fungus between their cracked bark in amounts far greater than before. The wind was still like dead breath and the air was filled with the smell of rot. Runner didn’t notice any of it as he made his way past the rocks, the pines, and the stream. The stillness of the meadow didn’t deter him.

He stood underneath the sweeping limbs on the tree.

“Lew!” He cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted. “Lew!”

The world around him was silent. When Runner needed him the most, Lew was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t expect him to be awake at this hour, but it still felt like a betrayal. Runner, delirious with emotion, called again and again. Stumbling back, he stood in the dark of the large oak tree. He looked up at its still branches and began to cry.

“It’s not fair,” he whispered between sobs. “It’s not fair.”

It wasn’t fair Lucky and he were at odds for the first time in their friendship. It wasn’t fair that Runner’s parents were never around. It wasn’t fair the Sid was disowned for his sexuality. It wasn’t fair that Lew was hurting and there was nothing Runner could do about it. Runner was sick of the pain in his life. He wanted it to end, but life wasn’t fair.

“No,” a voice gasped, painful and wet. “It’s not.”

“Who’s there?” Runner whipped around. He couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from; it was too dark. He reached into his back pocket and grabbed his phone with shaking fingers for the flashlight. It dropped into the grass when the voice spoke again.

“Thought you would recognize me after all the time we spent together, Wilbur.” It was layered-sounding, combined with the creaks and groans of old trees and many different voices. Runner couldn’t recognize it by sound, but he knew that it could only belong to one person.

“Lew?” Runner whispered incredulously. He gazed up into the deep oaken boughs and saw glittering eyes peering down at him. He took a few steps back from the fury and pain he saw in those eyes. Even in the dark, it was unmistakable.

“You pretended to be my friend. I thought you cared about me,” Lew, or what he thought was Lew, growled. Runner’s heart dropped.

“No.” He shook his head and took another step away from the tree. He was out of the shade. The moonlight lit him up silver. “No, Lew, I wouldn’t do that to you. I am your friend.”

“You’re a _liar_ ,” Lew retorted. The conviction in his tone ripped into Runner’s chest. He gasped from the pain of it.

“No, I’m not,” Runner shouted up at him. Tears bubbled down his cheeks. “You’re the one good thing in my life right now. I wouldn’t do that to you. I swear on my life, Lew. Please. Don’t do this to me.”

“Do this to _you_? You say you’re not a liar, so why don’t you try to explain this?” Lew dropped from the branches. The weight in which he hit the ground was unnatural. The earth shook around him. The meadow was afraid of him. As he emerged from the shadow of the tree, Runner swallowed fearfully. When the light of the moon illuminated Lew’s face and body, Runner’s knees gave out in fright. He fell to the ground and twisted his fingers into the grass and tried not to vomit. He looked down at the small bulbs of hyacinth as his vision swam. He was praying to believe his eyes were playing a trick the first time.

They weren’t.

Lew’s face was bursting in different places with white pus. It dribbled down his face from his ears. His naked skin was bloated and distorted. In the silver light, his expression was especially gaunt and dead-looking. His discolored hands were bulbous, reaching out towards Runner as Lew stumbled closer. His legs were bowed outwards, covered in bulging lumps. His flesh shone septic with burst pus pockets. Runner thought of Frankenstein’s monster, but Lew looked more abhorrent.

 _He was like the trees_ , Runner realized in horror.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like what you see? You liked staring at me before,” Discharge runneled through the cleavages between his teeth. Runner started sobbing again, wrenching in his chest as he heaved around his gasping breaths and tears. Lew’s words were brittle like rusted iron. Runner curled his arms around himself.

“Lew, what’s going on? W-what’s wrong with you?” Thin, watery saliva dripped off of Runner’s lip as he gagged. Lew came closer and went to his knees in front of Runner. The stench of rot filled his nose and his stomach finally overturned. He vomited onto the meadow grass and flowers between them.

Runner’s breath left him when Lew wrapped a hand around his throat and forced Runner to look upon his mauled face. The white pus dribbled down his face and slipped into his mouth as he spoke.

“You did this. You’re the fire below a Brazen Bull,” Lew snarled at him. Runner choked on a sob and he scrabbled at Lew’s hand uselessly; he was too distraught to muster any strength.

“H-how?” Runner whimpered. He couldn’t stop crying. One of Lew’s eyes leaked the white from his tear duct, and Runner couldn’t stop himself from gagging again.

“You’re the changeling,” Lew spat. “You fucking tell _me_.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Runner cried. He must have lost his mind. The tree was playing tricks on him. This _couldn’t_ be real. This couldn’t be his Lew. Just today, they had held each other underneath this very tree. Lew’s eyes were a beautiful seawater blue that he had known since the beginning of summer, not whatever cataractic gaze they made now. Lew’s hands were supposed to rub along Runner’s arms; those arms didn’t try to choke him or bulge with lumps of white, dribbling pus like they did now. This couldn’t be his Lew; this _had_ to be a stranger.

“You know what I’m talking about, _Wilbur_ ,” it growled. “You know what you’ve done to me this whole time. Don’t fucking lie when you’re the one who did this. Who’s done _all_ of this.”

“You’re like the forest. It’s part of you,” Runner’s voice shook. His heartbeat was skyrocketing and he could barely breathe. His vision was going grey and little blue dots danced behind his eyelids. Lew paused.

“I am not the forest. _You_ are.” The brittle hand around his throat tightened. Runner wheezed and stared at the creature in front of him. He tried to deny that this being in front of him was the young man he had slowly come to adore. Runner tried so hard. If these were his last moments, he might as well reveal himself. He might as well be brave and go into death with his heart bare.

“Lew,” Runner stuttered, “I wish we could’ve had enough time to love each other. I wish I could’ve saved you.”

“Quiet!” Lew yelled, casting Runner to the side with inhuman strength. Runner landed painfully on his leg. Lew loomed over him, shoulders heaving.

“I think I _do_ love you,” Runner sobbed. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I still think I love you.”

“Stop fucking talking!” Lew hissed, that voice, unhinged, creaking. Lew’s hands trembled.

“If you kill me, I’ll forgive you,” Runner sniffled. He wiped the tears from his eyes so he could see Lew more clearly. Runner’s breaths were fragmenting, panic attack enclosing.

“You think that I _want_ to do this? That I didn’t try to prevent this with everything I had?” Lew’s voice was broken. The multivocal sound crackled. For the briefest heartbeat, Runner thought he could hear Lew’s real voice underneath it all.

“It’s okay,” Runner shook his head. In some twisted way, it made sense that Lew would need retribution for the destruction of the forest, even if Runner didn’t understand his role in it.

“ _Your life should matter_.” Lew’s voice dropped to a rumbling whisper.

“...It’s okay,” Runner wheezed. It was getting so hard to breathe. He couldn’t see Lew as well anymore: he was so blurry.

“I’m so sorry,” Lew wept. He used one hand to shove the side of Runner’s head into the ground, exposing his jugular. Runner closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. His soundness whorled and he felt his sentience shrinking. He hoped that Lew would give him the mercy of unconsciousness before getting it over with.

“Balanis, _stop_!”

Runner faded.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: graphic depictions of body horror in the last scene, ends with a cliffhanger, a character is kicked out from their home for their sexuality. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I couldn't help myself! I've never done a cliffhanger before, so I'm excited to see what you all think of it! 
> 
> Congrats to everyone who participated in the PBB, whether it was in the creative process or the audience - Thank you!! 
> 
> Have a lovely day and thanks again for reading!


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